


Six Bullets in a Cottonwood

by rage_quitter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dragon Hanzo Shimada, Excessive references to Jesse James and his gold, M/M, Trans Character, Treasure Hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 16:49:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10723335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rage_quitter/pseuds/rage_quitter
Summary: Jesse McCree is one of the world's most notorious treasure hunters. During a search for a rumored mountain of gold on a long-abandoned island off the coast of Japan, he finds what he's looking for, and something he's not.





	Six Bullets in a Cottonwood

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Obsessed with legends of long-missing treasures, gold-hungry cowboys, and majestic magical dragons? It's more likely than you think.  
> I don't know how I churned this out over the course of ten days, but enjoy.

“Stupid fucking mountains. Stupid Reyes. Stupid legends.” Jesse McCree angrily kicked a rock off the side of the mountain, hearing it skitter down the steep slope. “Ain’t no treasure here. No abandoned old village full of riches. It’s a wild goose chase.”

He huffed and leaned against a tree to catch his breath a bit and shook out his sore hands. Even with gloves on, the climb wasn’t easy. At least it wasn’t cold, with just enough of a chill to keep him from overheating from the exertion.

McCree looked down over the slope at the expanse of mountainous terrain that stretched before him to meet the sea in the distance. Had he not become used to extreme scenery, it might be breathtaking. It was beautiful, he would freely admit, but the irritating climb to get to see the view soured it.

All for a cache of treasure that might not even exist.

But if it did…

That was what spurned him on. The thought of an entire ancient village, stuffed with gold and jewels and trinkets of immeasurable value… he could pay off his bounty, pay off his boss-slash-best-friend’s bounty, maybe buy this entire damn island and live in peace forever.

He wouldn’t, of course, because he was an adrenaline junkie. He’d probably just buy a new plane for Jack, new tech for Gabriel, better equipment for himself. And a new hat, for sure. He was still surprised he’d had this one as long as he did.

McCree gripped a branch tight in one hand and leaned forward to look down. He wasn’t terribly high, but the cliff was sheer enough to make him feel a little dizzy. He grinned as he leaned out, stretching his arms out and feeling the wind catch on the serape he’d had to tie tight. He used to hate heights.

 _Okay, enough_ , he told himself. Treasure awaited. Hopefully.

He stepped back from the ledge and crouched down to check his maps with the GPS Reyes had given him. There was barely signal here, and only from the modifications made to their tech by a weird underground techie Reyes had somehow made friends with.

They’d gone over every legend, every myth, every story, matching up whatever they could with the geography of the island. It was one of the most dangerous and expensive expeditions they’d taken, but if it was true, it would be the biggest haul they’d ever found.

So far, it seemed like he was on the right track. The only way to go from here was up. He packed up his gear again and shouldered his pack.

There wasn’t much in the way of a trail. McCree hacked through the underbrush with a knife, scrambled his way up rocks and slowly climbed up short cliff faces. He could feel sweat drying uncomfortably down his back, despite the chill from the wind on what little bare skin he was showing. His fingers ached from the climbing, and he was sure he’d twisted an ankle slipping down a slope at one point. He kept going, though.

As he reached up to climb to another ledge, he felt something odd. The stone was… squared. He looked up, squinting in the shadow of his hat.

That was absolutely man-made. He felt the breath leave his body.

McCree hauled himself up with a grunt.

A soft gasp escaped his throat.

Nestled among the trees, incredibly high in this mountain on this unimportant island south of Japan, was a shockingly large, half-ruined village.

The buildings were mostly stone, overgrown and cracked and many collapsed in on themselves. What few roofs that remained were petrified wood. There were shattered pieces of furniture and other interesting but not very valuable items scattered around.

The scariest part was that it looked like a damn war zone.

Slowly, McCree walked forward. A chill went down his spine as he stepped past the first crumbled house.

“Shit,” he murmured. “What the hell happened here?”

He pulled out his revolver and cautiously entered one of the more stable-looking houses. It was small, like most of the other buildings, and seemed pretty barren. It didn’t take long to shuffle through the rubble to find it, indeed, empty.

Almost… too empty.

At that same careful pace he moved toward the biggest building. It looked like a tree had fallen through the middle of it, if that tree was ten feet wide and had disintegrated completely.

McCree wasn’t a superstitious man. He’d been to more tombs and graves and abandoned cities and buildings than anyone else. Very little scared him anymore. He didn’t believe in ghosts, didn’t believe in any of that mythology stuff. He only prayed out of habit from his childhood.

But something felt wrong.

McCree couldn’t place the feeling. _Someone walking on your grave_ , he thought. Like being watched from the shadows. Like he was trespassing somewhere sacred. Like he shouldn’t be here.

He tightened his grip on his gun and stepped over the crumbling wall.

It was dark inside the building. He fished out the small light that Gabriel hated and clipped it to his hat. It looked silly, but left his hands free. He clicked it on and gave the building a cursory once-over as small animals skittered away from the intruder.

It looked like it had been one large room, with a few doors off to either side, probably for smaller rooms. It was hard to tell with the building collapsed like this, but it might have been some kind of temple.

With no danger besides the lingering feeling of wrongness, McCree began to explore.

There was still just as much treasure as in the rest of the buildings. That was, absolutely none.

He was starting to get frustrated with the lack of anything valuable when he noticed something… odd about the rubble. He frowned and crouched to examine a section more closely.

It looked like it had been moved. A very long time ago, of course, but the chunks of rocks and broken wood didn’t line up right, were stacked a bit neatly in some places. But a lot of those pieces were far too heavy for one person to move.

He wasn’t the first one here, then. Someone else picked the entire village clean decades, maybe centuries ago.

But--wait.

McCree leaned closer.

The floor was torn up. Like some enormous sharp object ripped through it, like huge claws, based on the pattern. McCree felt a twist in his gut. That was a terrifying thought. Whoever came here all that time ago destroyed the village in their hunger for treasure. Or maybe it had happened during whatever battle took place. It was hard to tell. He didn’t like it, either way.

McCree made his way outside again and knelt down to set up his communication system. It was a bit complex to accommodate for terrible signal, and he didn’t really know how it worked, nor cared, really. Sombra took care of the tech, so he didn’t worry about it. Wasn’t his job.

Eventually, he heard a garbled voice through it and tapped the dial to get the reception better. “...Cree? Is that you?”

“Aha!” McCree leaned into the microphone to reply. “Howdy, boss, can ya hear me?”

There was a pause as Reyes received the transmission. “Loud and clear. Relatively speaking. Did you find something?”

“Huh-hoh, bet yer ass I did.” McCree chuckled. “Legends weren’t lyin’. There’s a whole damn village up here.”

Reyes swore softly and yelled something over his shoulder. “Talk to me, Jesse.”

“Ain’t much to tell, unfortunately. It’s picked clean. I s’pect they got here long before we did. Like, centuries ago, long. Ain’t a speck of shine to be seen. Place is shot to hell, though. Looks like a nasty battle or somethin’ was fought here.”

“Huh. Strange… Well, send me the coordinates and come back to camp. We can all go up tomorrow and explore some more.”

“Sure thing, boss.” It took some finagling with the tech to get the GPS to lock in coordinates, but once he got them, he rattled them off to Reyes. “I’ll start headin’ on back--”

Something caught his eye.

“McCree? Hello?”

McCree stood, slowly, lifting his revolver. Something blue, moving in the trees, just barely visible. He squinted, searching for it.

“Show yourself!” he barked.

There was silence. Nothing else moved.

Must’ve been an animal, he reasoned. He crouched to the equipment again. “Sorry, Reyes, thought I saw somethin’ movin’ around. Seems a-okay now, though.”

“Good. I don’t want to have to run another search and rescue for your dumb ass.”

McCree laughed. “Right. You love me.”

“I’m disowning you when you get back.”

“Ain’t that supposed to be Jack’s line?”

Reyes laughed. “Yeah, okay. He’s getting antsy with you gone so long. Hurry up.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be back-- _HAUGH!”_

Agony burst in McCree’s shoulder and he swam in the sudden copper smell of blood. He dropped the mic as dizziness overwhelmed him and reached up to feel something metallic protruding from his shoulder-- an arrow?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck--” he whimpered, swaying as he turned, blindly firing into the forest. Reyes’s voice shouted behind him, but he sounded muffled behind the loud pounding in his ears.

He’d been shot with arrows before, but this… wasn’t normal.

Oh, God, it was poisoned.

His revolver hit the dirt and he doubled over next to it. Thick red blood dripped down beside his fingers.

McCree felt his limbs begin to give out as nausea rolled over him. He fell over on his side, panting, shaking.

The last thing he saw before darkness swallowed him was the silhouette of a man walking toward him from the trees.

 

McCree had no idea how long he was unconscious.

When he came floundering into existence again, it was with confusion and fear. He felt slow, heavy, and panic flooded his mind. He couldn’t move, not really. It took too long for him to blink open his eyes, despite the silent shrieking in his head.

The room he was in-- no, wait, not a room. A cave was the only word he could use to describe it. Vaguely rounded, fairly small, dimly lit by a weird-looking lamp with a pale blue flame that sat on the floor by the only entrance, a tunnel that vanished into darkness. McCree was laying on his side on something that was not the floor. It felt like some sort of animal hide, maybe. Kind of soft, and it smelled clean, and was certainly warmer than stone.

With the exterior catalogued, he took inventory of himself. No gear on him, but he was clothed, though his shirt had a bloody hole in it, unfortunately, and so did his serape. Damn, he really liked this one. Still had his hat, too, sitting beside him. How nice of his attacker.

Without moving much else, he cautiously poked at his shoulder. There was bandaging under his shirt, where he’d been struck by the arrow. It didn’t hurt very badly now, but felt pretty numb.

Okay, now to find out where the hell he was and how to get out of here.

He tried to get up, but his muscles wouldn’t cooperate. He gritted his teeth and tried to roll on his side. It took more work than he hoped, but he managed.

Step one. Good.

Except that it took a lot more from him than he expected. The poison must still be in his system.

Exhaustion washed over him again.

Eventually, after who knew how long and how many times he had drifted in and out of unconsciousness, his body seemed to be working better. He still felt a little slow, a little numb, but it was enough. Taking care not to move too quickly, he sat up, bracing his hands on the wall. He was, indeed, lying on a pile of clean animal skins and what looked like old clothes arranged into an almost nest-like pile. Weird.

McCree put that aside and got to his feet. He squeezed his eyes shut as nausea rolled over him, but it passed quickly. Apparently that was a feeling he’d be getting used to.

Keeping one hand to the wall, McCree shuffled along the room. His shoulder protested as he leaned down to pick up the lamp. It was definitely archaic, and distinctly Japanese in design, but the blue flame was weird. It didn’t look like there was any sort of fuel to it. Maybe it was some kind of gas, not oil.

The tunnel appeared to stretch on and then curve away, so he couldn’t tell how long it was or where it went from here.

Well, he thought, only one thing to do.

McCree began to walk through the tunnel.

As he passed through the curve, it began to slope downwards, a bit steeply. It was enough to make him move more slowly, especially with his injury and the poison still in his veins. There were a lot of loose rocks that crunched under his feet, despite his cautious footsteps. Gravity pulled the stones to skitter across the ground.

The flickering blue light cast his shadow eerily against the wall. The lamp didn’t feel warm, he realized after a while. At least, not hot. It was a little warm, but a far cry from what he was used to with flame lamps. What the hell kind of lamp was this? He didn’t want to risk tampering with it and leaving him in the dark.

The path began to wind around, like a snake. The walls were weirdly patterned, like they were scraped out over time. It didn’t look unnatural, no signs of tools, but it didn’t look like these were made by any animal or force of nature he was familiar with. Maybe swirling water filled with big tumbling stones or something. It wasn’t very smooth, but not terribly jagged. Just… odd.

After what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes, McCree could see a faint light. He squinted toward it, but the tunnel was still curved. He moved a bit slower, trying to keep more quiet on the gravel.

Another minute or so later, he could hear something. He paused to listen. Was that running water? It wasn’t a trickle, but a distant rushing rumble, like a river. Or a waterfall.

The light began to grow brighter and the sound louder as he continued. The air felt chilly and damp, but not uncomfortably so. It might be if he had to be here a long time, but for now it felt almost refreshing and light, surprising for the inside of a cave. The walls felt a little slick under his hand from the moisture.

When the tunnel opened up into a huge cavern, he didn’t notice the huge river that rushed through the center, cascading down to a gaping exit in the side of the mountain. He didn’t notice the lamps along the walls and set on high pedestals, lit with that same unnatural blue flame. He didn’t notice the series of other tunnels that branched off from the cavern, didn’t notice the stalactites and stalagmites that jutted out from the ceiling and floor.

All he saw was the enormous, heaping mountain of glittering gold.

It had to be as tall as he was in places.

McCree’s knees felt weak. There was _so much treasure_.

“I’ll be damned,” he whispered. He stared in absolute awe at the piles shimmering prettily in the blue light. There were coins from all sorts of eras, goblets and dishware, jewelry and gems, polished armor in varying sets, dozens of weapons from bows to guns to swords to axes. Scattered among the shiny things were books, scrolls, more innocent mundane items, and, giving pause to McCree’s starving fingers, long-dead bones. Mostly human bones.

He set the lamp on the ground and walked forward. The water that rushed through the cave cut the treasure pile in half. There was a neat stone bridge going across, oddly well cared for. When he risked a glance over the edge, the waterfall tumbled out of a hole in the mountain, hiding the entrance to this cave. It would be nigh impossible to get inside, only a tiny space between the rock and the water and a rickety path that led upwards. He could see it easily from the inside, but guessed that outside, it was totally invisible.

Whoever lived here wanted this place hidden, and apparently, for damn good reason.

McCree looked back at the treasure and licked his lips nervously. He should go. He was weak, injured, and had to get back to the crew to tell them about this. But, God, he wanted to jump in the gold and live in it.

He’d always been a bit impulsive.

The sharp pain in his shoulder stopped him from trying to swim in the treasure. But he could at least grab a few pieces to pocket, maybe one of those weapons, so he could get out and prove that he found this. McCree walked back over to the gold and reached down.

His fingers closed on the hilt of what looked like a katana when a sudden icy chill shot down his spine.

The lanterns blew out.

McCree gripped the sword tight in both hands and backed up slowly, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

Over the rushing of the river, he heard a clinking sound, then another. It was, he guessed, the sound of something shifting through the piles of gold, sliding through it, with those things that might’ve like giant footsteps across the treasure if that wasn’t absolutely insane.

 _You wake_.

The voice was deep, and McCree wasn’t sure he actually heard it. He wasn’t sure if it was even in English, but he understood exactly the sudden thought in his head.

_I assumed a thief, and it appears I was correct._

“What-- what is this?” McCree’s voice shook. “Who are you?”

The shifting gold paused. It sounded close. There was silence for a moment before warm air washed over him. Like he was… being smelled, by a dog the size of a house, if dogs had breath that smelled like metal and sandalwood.

_You know not the mistake you have made._

The overwhelming presence in front of him withdrew, and the lights suddenly blossomed back into life.

McCree gasped. The sword clattered to the ground and his back slammed into the wall as he took in the sight in front of him.

The creature that loomed over him was enormous. He couldn’t guess its length, because its tail curled over itself and vanished into the river. It was probably nearly ten feet wide, arching over him and staring down with dark, intelligent eyes. Its scales were a rich blue, mottled with darker patterns on its left side down its leg. It had three claws on each leg, glittering a dangerous white like the fangs that peeked out of its elegant face. Its mane was pale gold. Silvery antlers jutted back from its head, vaguely deer-like.

McCree blinked, and blinked again.

The dragon stared at him.

“I am… I’m dead,” McCree said. “Oh, sweet merciful heaven, I died, didn’t I, I’m dead.”

The dragon tipped its head a little.

_No. I did not allow you to die. I considered it, and I still am._

McCree laughed incredulously and reached up a hand to rake through his beard. “No, no, I’m either dead, or I’m hallucinating, or dreamin’, ‘cause no way this is real. Ho boy. I’m a real long way from Kansas and I ain’t even got Todo with me.”

_You are strange. I have met many odd men in my time but you… are different._

McCree stared up at the dragon. “You’re a damn dragon. A dragon! What the hell, a dragon!” He threw back his head with laughter.

The dragon looked… almost concerned.

_Are you ill? Are you mad? Is there still venom in your body?_

“I got no idea, maybe, all three? Oh my God, I’m in a cave with a real, living, actual dragon!” McCree was pretty sure that he was going insane. “Are you actually real? Like, flesh an’ blood real?”

The dragon hummed. This time, it was a sound that reverberated deep in McCree’s chest. _Yes. I am a real, living being. You do not believe in dragons?_

“I only believe in what I can see and touch and all that, and dragons sure as hell weren’t included in that list. Till now.” McCree pushed up his hat. “Wait, did you save me?”

 _It was only fair, seeing as it was my venom that you were poisoned with. I was curious about you. It has been… a very long time since a human has come here._ The dragon shuffled its massive serpentine body, sending bits of gold skittering down the piles. _But you are a treasure hunter. A thief._

“Honestly, sure, yeah, professional treasure hunter. Unofficial archaeologist, we like to call it.” McCree snorted. “But who gives a damn about treasure right now when I’m talkin’ to a dragon?” The sudden shock of the situation hit him like a wall and he straightened up. “Seein’ a real dragon is worth more’n any gold I could ever find. I think you’re more valuable than this whole lovely hoard of yours. Even if I join all these skeletons here, I’ll die a rich man.”

_You are a curious fellow. Perhaps I will leave you alive._

“Y’know, that seems like a pretty favorable outcome for me, too, Mister Dragon. Or… Miss Dragon? Uh… do y’all even have genders?”

The dragon seemed to laugh at that, a sound that was musical and made all the lamps brighter for a moment. _Not in the same sense that you humans seem to, no. But I suppose your ‘masculinity’ applies to me well enough, for your brain to understand._

“Got it. I think. What about names?” A fire was burning in McCree now. With the shock fading and the fight-or-flight relaxing, he wanted to eat up any knowledge this creature could pass on.

_No one has asked me for my name in many years._

“Well, now, that just ain’t polite, now is it? I guess we didn’t get off on a great introduction neither, did we? What with me bein’ unconscious and poisoned and all. Better late than never, though. The name’s McCree.” He grinned widely at the dragon and tipped his hat, figuring that would work in place of a handshake, considering that the dragon was, well a dragon. It didn’t exactly have hands.

_You are indeed quite odd. You… can call me Hanzo._

“Hanzo,” McCree said, letting the name linger on his tongue. “Name as fine as you, in my opinion. Pleasure makin’ your acquaintance. But, uh, I think I might be dying, unfortunately, is it hot in here?” He tugged at his collar. Maybe that fire burning in him was more literal than he thought.

Hanzo leaned down and breathed over him again. _You are reacting to the venom again. You should have rested longer, but it appears I underestimated how long you would be under the effects of the antivenom’s sleep-inducing properties._

“Lovely. Never been poisoned like this before. You said it was your… venom?”

_Yes. It would have killed you very, very quickly had I not administered the antivenom as well. You are fortunate. You will survive. Have you… experienced poison before?_

“This business? Yeah, loads of times. Snake venom, scorpion venom, poison from all kinds of plants, purposeful sabotage and murder attempts from people trying to rob you blind. Namely alcohol, though, that’s my poison of choice.”

_Well, we have that in common, then._

“Dragons can drink?”

Hanzo gave an amused snort. _You are ill, McCree._

Before he could react, Hanzo ducked his head down and snaked around him. McCree yelped and scrabbled to cling to his mane as he was lifted into the air.

_Hold on._

Hanzo moved fast. He slithered through the treasure hoard and through another tunnel. It wasn’t a very narrow fit, and McCree guessed he’d carved these himself over time. His claws and diamond-hard scales explained that, then.

It took very little time to reach the end of this tunnel. It was definitely shorter than the other, and the cave seemed more… homey. The nest of animal hides here looked softer, and there was a worn wooden table and two chairs, a cabinet of a different wood, and something like a fire pit in the corner.

_The last human who stayed here many, many decades before you lived here for a few days until he attempted to behead me and flee with my gold. He failed, obviously. You seem smarter than him, although certainly less sane._

McCree slid down off of him and doubled over to let the nausea pass. “Yeah. No worries, Hanzo, I’m no fool. Rash, but even I know when to fold.” He sighed and straightened. “Uh… quick question. I know you ain’t gonna kill me, not now. Why? What am I gonna do? Why keep me around? Wouldn’t it be more convenient for you?”

The dragon’s face was unreadable. Hanzo didn’t say words, but McCree clutched at his chest at the sudden, terrible, aching loneliness that filled him.

“Oh,” he murmured. “I getcha. I guess bein’ on this island all by yourself for who knows how long… well, I hope I’ll make good company.”

He needed to get back to Reyes and the team. Oh, God, they would be worried sick. But without the antivenom from the dragon, he’d die. He was still weak and pretty helpless.

And, honestly, this mystical creature was incredible. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to stay with a dragon for as long as possible?

Besides, he could relate to the loneliness that Hanzo felt. He was pretty damn empathetic to that. Treasure be damned; he hadn’t lied earlier when he said this fantastic being was the most amazing thing he had ever laid eyes on.

_You must rest. Sleep off the remains of the venom, and then… we shall see what the future holds. Do not worry about food and water, I will provide._

“Mighty kind of ya, Hanzo. I really doubt I could eat anything right now, though, I don’t think it’d stay down.” McCree made a face and touched his uncomfortable stomach.

 _Likely not. Once you are free of the effects of the poison, you will likely be ravenous, however._ Hanzo nudged him toward the nest-bed-thing with his nose. _Sleep, before you crumble where you stand and risk hurting yourself._

McCree managed a bit of a laugh and made his way there. It was much softer and more comfortable than the other nest of animal skins. He felt his tired body relax into it easily and sighed. “Thanks.”

_Sleep well… McCree._

McCree’s dreams were filled with the dragon and crushing loneliness. There was not a gold piece in sight.

When he woke up, he felt way better. A bit uncomfortable from deep sleep in an awkward position, but energy filled his muscles again and his head felt clearer. He sat up with a grunt, stretching and feeling his spine pop. He took a quick look at the room.

It seemed much the same, but the first thing he noticed was that the fire pit was lit. It was real fire, too, burning low and orange and warm, chasing out the damp chill of the cave. The second thing he saw was the platter sitting on the table with something on it.

There was no other sign of Hanzo, so he stood and went over to the table. He was pleasantly surprised by the meal. Rice, some kind of cooked and seasoned meat, vegetables… how did he make this with those giant claws of his? Did he summon food out of the air? If dragons were real, hell, maybe they were magical, too.

As he sat to eat, that thought bothered him more. How did Hanzo bandage his arm up, too? The dressing was changed, even. Sure, he was a graceful creature, but McCree was a tiny human and he was a huge dragon… even though McCree wasn’t really small by human standards, but that was beside the point.

And the archer… who was that? Hanzo knew that the archer had used his dragon venom, so there had to be another person on this island. Who the hell had that been? Was it someone the dragon was hunting down, or something the dragon worked with? Why was he so lonely if there was another person running around?

How did Hanzo pour a cup of some sort of rice wine, too? Sake, he thought, as he tilted the cup. Or something similar. Where the hell did he get it? McCree felt uncomfortable with all of this, but he was hungry and thirsty and curious enough to shove it aside.

When he finished the food, he stacked the dishes as neatly as he could. He wondered if he should bring them out or something, but decided against it for now. He downed the last drops of the alcohol and stood.

McCree was pleased that he didn’t need the support of the wall anymore, but brushed his fingers along anyway just in case as he ambled down through the tunnel back to the central chamber. The water rushing was a pleasant white noise that didn’t quite mask his jingling spurs and gravel-crunching steps.

The sight of the heaps of treasure rendered him frozen again. He’d nearly forgotten. He itched to grab every piece he could fit on his person.

The massive sapphire serpent curled across the piles of gold held his hands at his sides.

Hanzo lifted his head as McCree stepped into the room. _You are awake._

“Yeah. Mornin’, I think. Thanks for the breakfast. It was… unexpected. Didn’t think a dragon could make food like that.”

_I must have some secrets, you know._

“Everything about you is a secret to me.” McCree gave an easy grin to the dragon.

_Are you feeling well now?_

Avoiding the topic. Okay, fine. McCree nodded. “Much better. That venom of yours is some powerful stuff.”

_Of course it is._

“I gotta ask.” McCree tried to hold Hanzo’s eyes, letting some of the mirth slide from his countenance to show the seriousness of his question despite his relaxed tone. “Who shot me?”

Hanzo looked away. _An archer who… may reveal himself, in time. It is… complicated._

“Hm. ‘Course it is. Well, ain’t much ever been easy in my life, so I guess that’s fair.” McCree shrugged, dissatisfied with the not unexpected lack of an answer.

Hanzo lowered his head to rest on the gold at eye level with McCree. _Tell me. You come here from a far off land, searching for gold, like many before you. Were I not here, were this treasure unguarded, what would you do?_

“Pay off my bounty, first,” McCree answered. “You kill one too many guys in a shootout over a supposedly cursed amulet and suddenly have a million dollars hangin’ over yer head and wanted in seven countries. I don’t like not bein’ a free man. Ain’t nothin’ worse than having no free will. I’d also pay off the same bounty for my friends. Then I’d get ‘em nice things. New equipment, state of the art type shit, y’know? They deserve it for puttin’ up with my dumb ass.” He sighed and crossed his arms, looking down as his gut twisted, thinking about Gabriel and Jack. “I don’t really ever keep much for myself. Couple little trinkets, but mostly for aesthetic purposes and for fallback if I gotta sell or trade ‘em. I’m in this for the adventure.”

 _That is… unusual. I have met many treasure hunters who get such greed in their eyes that it clouds their hearts. Yet you are faced with all this,_ and Hanzo’s tail scraped along the pile of treasure for emphasis, _and your first thoughts are freedom and friendship?_

“Yeah. Nothin’ else matters in the long run, right? I’d rather be a poor free man with my little rag-tag family than a rich, lonely man in chains, and I’ve been combinations of all of ‘em before. Sure, the ideal is rich free man with all my friends by my side, but chances are in this world that ain’t gonna happen, so we do what we can.” McCree leaned back against the wall.

 _Noble words,_ said the dragon with almost a touch of mirth. _You seem wise beyond your years._

McCree laughed at that. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I appreciate the sentiment. Guess I’ve learned a thing or two in my travels.”

_It sounds as though you have had some very interesting adventures. It has been a very long time since I have gone far from my home. If you do not mind sharing, I am curious to hear some of these stories._

McCree mulled over a few different explorations for a moment. “Well… one of my first expeditions that got really crazy was about twenty years ago in Peru, where we got caught up in this wild chase for a lost grave of a military prince…”

Hanzo was a very attentive listener as McCree talked about a few different hunts. He didn’t interrupt often, mostly for clarification on some things like various movie references or tech that McCree guessed he wouldn’t understand, being a literal dragon in a cave alone on an island. McCree got pretty animated as he spoke, reliving those adventures and maybe exaggerating a few things.

After a while, his curiosity started to raise its head again. When he finished the story he was currently telling, he looked over Hanzo for a moment.

“So… I’ve been ramblin’ a while now,” he started. Hanzo lifted his head up a bit. “And I’m curious about your own stories. From the way you talk, you’re pretty much ancient. Why’re you all alone here? What is with all the treasure? I thought that was like a European dragon thing. Are there other dragons?”

Hanzo curled himself up a little more. _There are some. We are rare, now, hunted over centuries. Mostly invaders thinking us dangerous._

“Probably white people.”

Hanzo gave an amused snort at that. _I have not been in contact with another of my kin in a very long time, and it ended… very badly the last time. I suppose the treasure is a way of… replacing something that was lost. Perhaps if I can collect enough riches, I can… make up for what I have done._

“You… lost someone you cared about, didn’t you?” McCree said softly.

 _It was my own fault. Jealousy clings like thorns and drives even dragons mad._ There was a faraway look in Hanzo’s eyes. _It leads anyone to do things that they regret dearly._

McCree nodded slowly as the weight of his words settled. “I’m sorry. And I know that doesn’t really help, the sympathy of a measly little human, but… hell, I don’t know, I don’t think there’s much that can’t be atoned for. Anyone can get forgiveness. I’ve seen men do terrible, terrible things out of greed and envy, but I’ve seen the most amazing miracles from those same things. It’s what you do with those emotions. It’s what comes after. Maybe you do somethin’ horrible, but there ain’t nobody who can’t change and become a better person. Hypothetically speaking.”

_You say this, but… I doubt there is redemption for me. It was not petty thievery._

“You want to talk about it, but it hurts,” McCree guessed. “And you still ain’t sure you trust me yet. You do what you want, Hanzo. I’m as good as my word. You could easily kill me. I ain’t got a reason to betray you or judge you. I’m a man with many sins, and I’ve said as much.”

_I have never met a man like you before. That is not a bad thing._

“Complimented by a dragon? I’m guessin’ that’s the highest honor a fella could get.”

 _If you consider it so._ There was amusement in his tone.

“I have… another question. Lots of ‘em, I guess, but, uh…” McCree considered his words. “This is probably the coolest thing that has ever happened to me in my life. I’ve done some cool shit. A dragon. I’m still not sure this is really happening. But I… I dunno. I have people who need me. My crew. My family. They’re gonna be worried sick, searchin’ all over for me. And I’m guessin’ they shouldn’t come here, ‘cause not all of ‘em are gonna be so easy going seein’ this much treasure.”

 _You are still ill. Even if you feel like you could travel, the venom still burns in your veins. It takes time. If you left now, you would die. Besides that,_ and Hanzo raised his head, eyes glittering dangerously, _I cannot trust that you would not lead them back here. Thus far I… must admit, I do… almost like you. But I have been betrayed before._

“Okay. Yeah, I getcha.” McCree nodded. He wasn’t sure if he should be disappointed, or excited. Some weird combination of the two? “They won’t stop till they find me, but… well, I guess a few days of worry ain’t the end of the world. I’ve been MIA longer. I’d rather that than risk that poison eatin’ me up.”

_Wise choice. I will ensure your safety in return for more of these tales… and company._

“I got plenty of that, Hanzo, don’t you worry none.”

McCree told more stories. Hanzo began to speak of his own adventures, of other people who had come to the island, many who had faced their end and were now scattered among the treasure.

When McCree awkwardly brought up the topic of bathing, Hanzo, amused, offered him the river and dragged out a pile of random clothes from a dozen decades out of another side tunnel. _Something ought to fit._

Hanzo refused to show McCree how he prepared food for him. He banished him back to that room until he had made the meal. McCree didn’t really buy his excuse of “dragon magic” being “too much for mortal eyes” but humored him nonetheless. And not just out of fear of being eaten by the dragon, but out of respect for him, too.

The next day went much the same. But that day, Hanzo allowed McCree to rest against his warm, surprisingly soft tail as he talked, let him comb his fingers through his mane. And if a low rumble, like a cat’s purr, began deep in Hanzo’s chest, McCree didn’t mention it. They spent the entire day like that, sharing stories, laughing together. And the day after that, as well. He was growing very fond of the dragon, and genuinely enjoying his company.

When McCree came down to the central chamber the fourth day, Hanzo was crawling out of the river. There was excitement on his face.

_There is something I wish to show you._

“Oh, yeah?” McCree perked up in interest. “What’s that?”

Hanzo lowered his head. _I am going to trust you. It is not inside._

McCree arched an eyebrow, but after Hanzo sent the feeling of encouragement and excitement to him, climbed on his back and gripped his golden mane, one hand reaching up to hold his hat. “Alrighty, then, Hanners.”

Hanzo made an amused sound at the nickname. _Hold tight._

McCree’s fingers tightened as the dragon lurched forward along the slick riverbed. He heard Hanzo’s claws scraping the stone, but when he glanced back, his tail was barely touching the ground. Oh, God, could he fly?

When Hanzo launched himself downwards and plunged through the waterfall, McCree’s panicked thought was answered. He let out a shrieking laugh as Hanzo curled upward through the air, spraying water everywhere.

Hanzo paused, suspended in the sky. _Are you still alright?_

“Ho-holy shit, this is incredible!” McCree yelled over the wind. He looked down at the mountain. “Yer flying!”

 _Yes._ The purr in Hanzo’s chest rumbled through McCree.

Hanzo flew like a serpent through water, curling around and probably showing off a bit. That was fine; it was unbelievable. He snaked upwards.

_Are you still holding tight?_

“Uhhh, yeah, why? Whoa, whoa!” McCree leaned close as Hanzo turned his head down and began to nosedive right for the mountain. He squeezes his eyes shut, heart in his throat.

The rush faded and there was a soft, grassy thump. _We are here._

McCree opened his eyes and gasped.

Atop the mountain was an old, obviously long abandoned castle, or maybe a temple. It was well overgrown, but still breathtaking. Growing neatly around it was a huge grove, nearly a forest, of pretty pink-blossoming cherry trees. The petals drifted off in the lazy breeze and coated the ground like pastel pink snow.

Hanzo lowered his head and McCree slid down to the ground with his mouth agape. “Han…”

Hanzo did not respond, but McCree felt the curiosity and anticipation from him.

“This is… so beautiful. What is this place?”

_This shrine was once for my family. Many, many years ago. We were a powerful family of dragons with many worshippers. There were pilgrimages to this temple, built long before I was hatched, to pray and leave offerings, to meditate under the cherry blossoms. We were like gods to the people._

McCree approached the shrine with cautious steps. It wasn’t a large building, and it was quite open in design. He stopped outside and looked up at the symbol above the main entrance, two dragons circling. “It’s amazing,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen so many cherry trees.”

_They are sacred. I tend to them._

McCree peered inside the shrine. “Is it… okay for me to go in?”

 _Yes._ There was hesitation. _But do not touch anything._

“Promise.” McCree gave a little tip of his hat and a smile to Hanzo before ducking inside.

As his eyes adjusted, he took in the sight. It was, indeed, a fairly small building, with a large space in the center, a porch area on the left, and a higher level on the right. At the back of the open space was the shrine itself. A scroll of Japanese characters adorned it, and below it was a sword on a pedestal. There was a chip in the curved blade.

Something felt… strange, here. McCree couldn’t bring himself to step forward. After a few moments, with the feeling mounting, he stepped back outside.

“It feels lonely here,” he said softly.

_It is._

McCree reached out one hand to run through Hanzo’s mane. “Thank you for showing this to me. It… it means a lot.”

Hanzo’s eyes closed. McCree felt a deep, aching sorrow and loneliness from him, but a warm touch of something indescribable as well. Almost joy, but not quite. Something like… peace.

_I would like to stay here for a short while, if you do not mind that. Although this place has many memories, not all of which are pleasant, it helps to clear my head._

“Yeah. I don’t really know how to meditate or anything, but I don’t mind stayin’ here for a spell.” McCree’s hand lingered on the sapphire scales of his face a moment before he stepped back.

_If you do not stray, you may explore. Please be careful. This place is… ancient, and very important._

“You have my word. I’ll be real careful,” McCree promised. He held still as Hanzo shifted and leaned his head forward. That sandalwood and metal smell washed over him again as Hanzo, ever so gently, tapped his nose to McCree’s chest, before raising up to his full height and crawling to the front of the shrine.

McCree watched him curl up around himself, staring inside. He reached up to touch his chest.

He waited a few silent moments before he ambled off to the trees. The air smelled heavenly, filled with the sweet floral fragrance of the cherry blossoms. He was sure they were falling on his hat and catching in his clothes, but couldn’t be damned to care. He wandered slowly through the pink forest, listening to the birds chirp and flutter.

It was pretty peaceful here. He’d never seen anything quite like it. For all the pyramids he’d explored, the abandoned castles he’d ransacked, the deep wilderness he’d nearly died in, this was one of, if not the, most beautiful places he’d ever been. It wasn’t just how it looked either, it was how it felt.

There was little else among the trees, aside from small rounded clearings with tiny statues of dragons, presumably for prayer and meditation. He made a lazy circle through the cherry trees before making his way back.

Hanzo was in much the same position he was before. McCree took the moment to watch him and examine him in the sun. His scales glittered, more beautiful and deep than any gemstone, like sunlight on the sea. His mane was sunwashed into fine strands of golden silk. The mottled pattern on his left side caught his eye again. It was hard to tell what it was, if anything. He imagined he could see storm-like designs, clouds and lightning bolts and things. Maybe he’d ask if he could look closer later.

He felt a shiver down his spine. This was a dragon. A real, living, breathing dragon.

And he wasn’t even overwhelmed anymore.

McCree stepped as quietly as his spurs let him. The cherry blossoms muffled his footsteps, at least. He stuck to the tree line and settled down to sit against a trunk. He looked up to watch the fluffy little clouds drifting in the lazy breeze, the petals dancing between him and the clouds.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep.

When he woke, though, he was wrapped in a soft blue serpentine body that purred quietly around him. It was late afternoon now, and the sun reflected off Hanzo’s scales in a way that took the breath from McCree. At his soft gasp, those dark eyes opened and his massive head turned toward him.

_Hello._

“Mornin’,” McCree replied. “Or, afternoon, I guess. Sorry, I didn’t meant to fall asleep. You could’ve woken me up.”

 _It is fine. You looked peaceful. Did I disturb you?_ He started to unwind from McCree.

He reached out to put a hand on him, stilling him. “No, not at all,” McCree said. “How are you now?”

_I am… refreshed. I appreciate your respect of this place._

“I wouldn’t dream of bringin’ any harm here, Hanzo. This is special to ya, so that’s important to me.”

_You think highly of me. Are you always this trusting and charming?_

McCree chuckled. “No, not really. Guess you’re different. Not everyday you get to know a dragon, right? Besides that, you’re just… I dunno. I like you. You’re someone I could be friends with easily.”

 _Friends._ McCree couldn’t tell the tone of the word. Hanzo kept it guarded.

“Yeah, I mean. We have kinda similar personalities, lookin’ past the big obvious stuff. We get along well, all that jazz. You’re nice to be around. Maybe only known ya a few days, but sometimes people just click. Guess dragons can be included in that too.”

_It is not a familiar concept to me, but I do not think it is a disagreeable one._

McCree patted Hanzo’s back with a grin. “Well, hey, ya saved my life, listened to me ramble on about all my stupid adventures, and gave me a new view of the world. If that don’t qualify you for friendship, I don’t know what does.”

_You are still strange, McCree. But it is good._

“... Jesse.”

Hanzo tilted his head, and McCree felt his confusion.

“My name. Jesse McCree. Usually go by my last name, but… I feel like I should tell you. I don’t really care which you call me.”

_It suits you._

McCree smiled.

Hanzo shifted. _We should return before it gets late. It gets cold during the night._

“Sure thing, Han.” McCree climbed on his back when Hanzo was ready and steeled himself for the return trip.

Back in the cavern, they spent more time talking. This time, McCree went further back, to his childhood, and how he got into adventuring. Hanzo told him about the people that used to live here, and off handedly mentioned his family again. McCree felt the sorrow when he brought that up, so he didn’t ask.

Hanzo must have trusted him a lot more now, because he allowed McCree to sit on the pile of treasure with him as they talked. McCree did eye the gold, picked up random items, but always put them down again.

They were up quite late talking, until McCree began to yawn. Hanzo nudged him toward his sleeping chambers.

As McCree started into the tunnel, he felt the cautious hesitation from Hanzo and turned.

_McCree… Jesse._

McCree tipped his hat back to look up at him and raised an eyebrow.

_… Shimada. That is my name. Shimada Hanzo._

McCree smiled gently at him. “Thank you for tellin’ me. G’night, Han.”

_Sleep well, Jesse._

There was food on the table when he woke. That was not unusual.

The central chamber was completely empty when he wandered in. That was unusual.

“Han? Hanzo? Hello?” McCree felt panic and fear bite at him. He walked cautiously to the edge of the river and peered down, where Hanzo often slept, but it was dark and empty.

“Oh, shit,” McCree muttered.

He stared at the mountain of gold.

If Hanzo wasn’t here guarding it… really, it would be easy to stuff his pockets and run.

But the thought had no appeal. It was just that-- a thought. He had no desire to flee, to even take a single gold piece. He wanted to find that dragon-- find his friend.

He grabbed a fairly boring-looking knife from the pile and sheathed it before making his way for the exit of the cave. The waterfall rushing past made his ears hurt, but he gritted his teeth and stepped outside.

It was a fair climb to the top, his arm protesting the entire time, but eventually, he spotted the familiar pink cherry blossoms. Sweat had his hair stuck to his skin and made his shirt feel gross, but he didn’t really care.

There was no dragon here, either. McCree wiped the sweat from his face and walked forward, frowning.

Where the hell was Hanzo?

Something caught his eye as he moved in front of the shrine. He jerked his head to the side and squinted.

There was someone inside.

McCree drew the knife and slowly walked forward. As he came closer, he could see their silhouette, kneeling in front of the sword, head bowed.

Where they… praying? Meditiating? Who the hell was that?

McCree stepped inside.

The figure moved with lightning fast reflexes, faster than McCree could see, grabbing a bow off the floor and launching an arrow. McCree jumped as it cut very, very close to him.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, eyes wide, staring at the arrow in the wall now. He turned to the person.

It was a man, dressed in some sort of traditional clothes, tied back to expose the left side of his torso. In particular, to expose the incredible tattoos down his arm. His short hair, tied back with a long, golden scarf, and--

McCree felt a little jolt at his face. He was the single most beautiful person he had ever laid eyes on. And sure, he’d already known years before that he was into men, but he was sure that this face could turn the straightest man’s interest.

Right now there was shock on that beautiful face as the bow was lowered. “What are you doing here?” asked the man in accented English.

“Uh… looking for my friend?” McCree answered. He quickly sheathed the knife. “What are… you’re the archer!”

“I…”

“You’re the bastard that shot me, ain’t ya?” McCree crossed his arms. He twisted his lip a bit in consideration. “Honestly, shame I hadn’t seen you before. I’m sure I’d’ve forgiven you when I thought I was dyin’ if I’d seen that face of yours.”

The archer frowned in confusion and stood. He wasn’t very tall, McCree noticed, but he was definitely well-built. “Why are you here?”

“Like I said. Lookin’ for a friend. I’m sure you know him. The dragon.”

“I know, yes. But you should not be here.”

McCree sighed. “Probably not, but I was worried about him. He don’t really go missing.”

“You… were worried?”

“Am worried, yeah, still no idea where the hell he is.” McCree reached up to scratch his beard, anxiety tugging at him. “If you know about him, more’n me, d’you have any idea where he could be? I mean, I guess it’s his island and he’s like, an immortal dragon god, so really ain’t much help I’d be, but still.”

The man murmured something to himself. McCree tipped his head a bit, but didn’t ask. “Hanzo is just fine.”

“Oh, really?” McCree perked up, cautiously optimistic. “Where is he?”

“Closer than you would think… Jesse.”

McCree gaped at him. The sudden waves of emotion that washed over him from the man nearly sent him to his knees in shock.

“Hanzo?”

He tilted his head up in a half-nod.

McCree stared at him. Looking for it, now, he could see. The way he held himself, the strength in his posture… he had the same eyes.

Slowly, he stepped forward. Hanzo stood still, watching, still holding his bow beside him.

“Hanzo… you… jerk bastard, you goddamn shot me. With a poisoned arrow! It was you!”

Hanzo flinched back. “I-- I did not know you! You were nothing but a trespasser in my land, a treasure hunter and thief!”

McCree was already laughing before Hanzo could finish talking. He lifted his hand and after a pause, set it on Hanzo’s shoulder. “I didn’t say I blame you. You had every right in the world. But I went all this time confused as hell, and you could turn into a…” A very attractive man. “A human guy the whole time.”

“I do not do so very often.”

“Huh… shame…”

“What?”

“Nothin’. You just… is this a form you choose or, like, some kinda soul manifestation thing? Can you shapeshift into whatever? Can you still fly?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes and set his bow on his back. “I do not really chose how my body looks, no. I have limited abilities in changing my shape. And no, I cannot fly.”

“Huh. Weird. So… were you a dragon or a human first? Or does it not really matter?”

“Dragon,” Hanzo answered immediately. “I am, in my soul, a dragon. The shape does not change that.”

“Do you like being human like this?”

“It…” Hanzo frowned. “I do not particularly care either way.”

McCree hummed and looked over him again. “I think I’d hate it. Bein’ in a teeny little squishy human body instead of a giant, badass, magical dragon?”

Hanzo scoffed. “Of course you would. But there is… something humbling in this form. Especially faced with a hulking brute of a man such as yourself.”

McCree gasped in mock offense and clutched his chest. “Your words hurt more than any arrow!”

When a smile split his face, McCree was sure his heart was replaced with a rabid bird. “I am not sure about that. My aim is very good.”

“Yer tellin’ me.” The urge to make a dozen Cupid jokes was strong, but he resisted. Just because he was human for now, didn’t mean it was necessarily okay to start hitting on him. Even if he was incredibly attractive. “So this is how you’ve been makin’ food and all that?”

Hanzo nodded. “This body is… weak is not the word I want to use. It appears as such, however, especially in comparison to my true form. Vulnerable, I believe, is the closest to what I want to say?” He sighed, obviously aggravated by the inability to express his thoughts.

“Nah, I get it. ‘Specially at first, when there ain’t much trust.” McCree shrugged. “But I’m sure you can easily kick my ass like this, too.”

“Ha. Probably. Although I do hope I would not have to. I am fond of you.”

“Aw, shucks.” McCree tipped his hat with a nervous smile.

Hanzo held his smile for a moment before it faded again. “Did you… climb all the way up here?”

McCree nodded. “Weren’t nothin’. I’ve climbed way worse things. One little mountain ain’t shit. Well worth it to find you.”

“I am sorry. I had not realized I was here for so long.” Hanzo cast a glance over his shoulder at the sword.

McCree felt the tense emotion from him. “Something happened with that sword,” he guessed. “Is that why you’re up here meditating and shit with all those feelings?”

Hanzo turned a sharp, confused look to him. “What do you mean?”

“You can do that emotional psychic thing, lettin’ me know what you feel without words. You got some guilt about somethin’ and it’s real strong when you’re lookin’ at that sword.”

“How are you able to tell that?” Hanzo demanded. “You should only know what I am allowing you to.”

“You’re not… what? I don’t know.” McCree held up both hands. “I’m as confused as you are.”

“I know!” Hanzo growled. He cursed. “This is not normal.”

“I have no idea what is or isn’t normal here. Bit outta my element.” McCree shrugged, lowering his hands again. “You know what I’m feelin’ then, too?”

“In a way, yes. It is less of the ‘emotional psychic thing’ as you put it and more a general sense. It is difficult to describe.” He sighed and crossed his arms. He muttered something that McCree couldn’t understand.

“Well, I mean, is that really that bad? Just means I can understand you better, right? Think I need all the help I can with that.” McCree gave him a wry smile.

Hanzo hummed, brow knit. “I… I don’t know. I am not accustomed to even having a… a friend, let alone one who can somehow read my emotions.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I usually can read emotions pretty well anyway. Don’t need no magical force to do that.”

Hanzo shook his head. “You are ridiculous.” There was something light in his tone. Fondness. McCree could feel that.

“Part of my charm.” McCree shifted his weight to something more relaxed. “How long you been up here?”

“Sunrise,” Hanzo answered. “I lost track of time, it seems. My apologies. You should not have had to come searching for me.”

“Well, like I said. I was worried.”

Hanzo eyed him for a moment. McCree felt his emotions, but he wasn’t sure how to describe them. Something… impressed? Something soft. “You care for me. That is… very important to me. Any other person that I have met would have taken this opportunity to take as much of my treasure and run away. And yet…”

McCree tapped the knife on his belt. “I only grabbed this just in case I ran into trouble. I won’t lie. The thought crossed my mind. But… yeah. You’re way more important to me now than any amount of gold.” As an impulse to prove it, he took the knife from his belt and held it hilt-out to Hanzo.

Hanzo stared at him for a moment before holding his hand up. “One dagger is nothing. Consider it yours.”

“Did this belong to one of those other guys you ate?”

Hanzo scoffed, but he was amused. “Perhaps. I did not eat them, you know. I am sure I told you as much.”

“More fun to imagine it, though.” McCree grinned and returned the dagger to its sheath at his hip. “I read somewhere that human flesh tastes great.”

Hanzo made a face. “I really would not be willing to try it. And it would not even be cannibalism for me! I’m not even human!”

McCree laughed, “Yeah, last thing I’d order off the menu. Wonder if personality affected how someone tasted.”

“That is disgusting!” Hanzo was holding back laughter, mirth rolling off him in addictive waves.

“Couldn’t be any worse than eatin’ crickets, though, I reckon.”

“Ugh. You sound as though you know from experience.”

“Oh, I do. And it’s not an experience I’d be willin’ to repeat. I’ll eat some weird things, but bugs are by far the worst.”

Hanzo gave a disgusted shudder. “How terrible!”

“Real terrible.” McCree grimaced, recalling the taste of the insects. “But desperate times.”

“Hmm. I suppose.” Hanzo’s eyes drifted up. His lip quirked. “Hold still.”

McCree stopped moving a Hazo lifted one hand, standing up on his toes (oh, God, that was really cute) to reach for his hat. McCree examined his tattoos as he brushed a petal off the brim. “There are cherry blossoms on your hat,” Hanzo said in amusement.

“Thank ya kindly,” McCree said as Hanzo dropped back on his feet. “Bet there’ll just be more, though.”

“Probably so.”

“They’re real pretty.” McCree watched them flutter along the ground. Inside, there weren’t a lot, but as cherry blossoms were want to do, there were a few that danced in the breeze through the open shrine.

“They are my favorite flower.” Hanzo caught one out of the air and looked at it in his palm for a moment before releasing it. “So short lived, though…”

“They always come back, though, every year.”

“That is true. What about you? Do you have a favorite flower? I assume you have seen many from all over the world.”

“Yeah. Never really thought about that.” McCree put a hand on his hip thoughtfully. “I don’t know much about flowers, but… maybe it’s kinda lame, but I think I like the flowers on prickly pears the best. ‘Specally the yellow ones. Pretty little cacti, they grow all over New Mexico, and you can even eat ‘em. They just… remind me of home.”

Hanzo stared at him for a moment. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around McCree’s hand. “You are homesick.”

McCree shook his head, letting his own fingers lace between Hanzo’s as the dragon pulled their hands between them. “It’s been a real long time since I’ve been there. Doubt I’d be welcomed back, anyway. I miss it, sure, but home wasn’t the word I wanted. My childhood? My parents? The reservation? They say home’s where the heart is, and home is everywhere for me. My heart’s in the thrill of exploring the world. I’ll always have a soft spot for the Chihuahuan, but…” He shook his head. “I can’t call it home to me.”

Hanzo’s face was soft. “It sounds like a lonely life,” he murmured. “Drifting like these petals in the wind. Do you never want to settle anywhere?”

“I dunno,” McCree confessed. “This is pretty much all I’ve known since I was seventeen. Twenty years is a damn long time, but I’m still young yet. I don’t think I could without going crazy. It’s a big world, and, as I’ve definitely learned recently, there’s loads I haven’t come across yet.” He let his thumb trail across Hanzo’s hand. “What about you, Hanzo? You ever thought about leavin’? You’ve been here so long.”

McCree could feel the low fear from him. His voice was quiet. “This is my home. This is where I have always lived. This is where my family has always lived. I am the last of the Shimada clan, the sole survivor and carrier of our name. If I were to leave… I do not know what could happen to this place.”

There was something else. McCree could feel that guilt again, that twinge of deep, painful regret.

“What was your family like? You’ve mentioned them, but… never in depth. I can never tell how you feel about ‘em.”

“It is… complicated.” Hanzo sighed and dropped McCree’s hand. “I suppose… I can talk about it. But not here. Perhaps inside… over a drink?”

“Sure. I’ll be happy to listen.” McCree gave a reassuring smile.

“Come, then. I think I have been here long enough for now.” Hanzo did not spare another look at the sword as he strode past McCree. McCree followed, a bounce in his step that made his spurs jingle.

“So, we’re gonna climb back down, or…” the words died in McCree’s mouth as Hanzo turned to look at him with sapphire scales growing over his face. “Oh.”

“It does not hurt, but it may be unpleasant to see,” Hanzo warned.

McCree couldn’t look away. It was pretty creepy. It was very quick, the shift from human to dragon, but also a little horrifying. The scales that spread over his skin, the antlers erupting from his head, hands growing out into claws. It only took a second, and if McCree had blinked he’d have missed half of it, but it certainly looked like it should have hurt.

Hanzo shook out his golden mane and peered down at him. _Are you alright?_

“Yeah, that was just weird. But I guess that comes with the territory, so.” McCree shrugged, playing it off cool. The stretching of his body was the worst part because it made him bigger, and all the smaller changes looked bigger too.

_Perhaps I should have warned you sooner. I am sorry._

“I’m fine, Han, easy.” McCree walked up to him and waited for him to lower his head to pat his nose. Hanzo huffed in gentle amusement. McCree smiled at him before hopping on his back again.

Hanzo did not prolong the trip back. It took far less time than McCree’s climb up.

_I will bring drinks. It is a long story, so perhaps it may be best to sit to talk. And I doubt my hoard is the most comfortable of seating._

McCree shrugged. “We can sit up in that room, I reckon. Plus nice warm little fire an’ all.” He slid down. “I'll wait for ya?”

Hanzo gave a nod.

McCree headed up the familiar tunnel. The fire was very low, so he knelt beside it to stoke it and build it with some of the firewood Hanzo had taken to leaving beside it.

It was only a minute before the dragon entered, looking a little nervous in his human form with a bottle and clay cups.

“Howdy, Han,” McCree greeted cheerfully, standing.

“Hello,” he returned.

The pair sat together and McCree accepted the cup handed to him. He did his best to mimic what Hanzo did, guessing some kind of tradition.

“Y’know,” he said conversationally as they started their drinks, “this sake ain't half bad. But I prefer a little bite to my liquor.”

Hanzo snorted and rolled his eyes. “How predictable. Such unsophisticated taste.”

“Hey, now, don't go knockin’ whiskey. It's gotten me through more’n a few hard nights.”

“From what you have told me, more than just difficult times,” Hanzo scolded.

“We all got vices. I could have worse than tobacco and alcohol. That said, I do appreciate you leavin’ me my cigars and lighter.”

Hanzo hummed. “Addiction is a powerful force. I doubt attempting to remove them from your possession would do very much good.”

“Now hold on, when did this turn into an intervention for my bad habits?”

Hanzo almost smiled. “My apologies, Jesse. I suppose I am little better with regard to drink.”

“Yeah, but you're a dragon, ain't really the same.” McCree leaned back a bit in his chair. “Anyhow… if you're okay with talkin’ about it… tell me ‘bout your family. Why you're so full of sadness.”

Hanzo looked down into his cup as he spoke. “The Shimadas have been around for a very long time. I am not very old in comparison to some of our elders, before… before they were all slain. I am only a thousand years old.”

“Only.” McCree shook his head. “Lookin’ good for your age, there, darlin’.”

Hanzo did smile at that. “In the span of history, I am young. In our prime, in my childhood, the Shimadas included myself, my father, his brother and their parents, and my… my younger brother. Dragons are not immune to disease and illness. Our mother was lost to ailment shortly after my brother’s hatching. A shame he never knew her; they were much alike.”

Hanzo shifted in his chair. “Many eras ago we were kindly gods, bringing rain and fertility to our people. Somewhere along the way, however, greed and the lust for power corrupted the Shimada clan, and we became terrible beasts. We were feared rather than revered.

“My father adored my brother. Not that he did not care for me, but in the wake of our mother’s death, I think he turned his affections to my brother. I… I was jealous. I will admit. My training was long and exhausting, learning how to be what they believed a dragon should be. My brother was allowed to be frivolous, often taking his human form to wander with the locals and do whatever he wanted.

“Eventually our father grew ill, the same disease that took our mother. I was expected to take over. The elders of the clan had always been displeased with the spoiling of my brother. I was to… put him in line.”

Hanzo took a deep breath. “It came to force. He confessed to me his desire to leave. He did not want the tyranny that we held over humans. He believed us equals. I was… not of the same opinion. I was arrogant, bitter, and jealous. I loved my brother dearly, but… I allowed emotion to drive me.

“You saw the village in the forest. Our fight was as brutal as two human armies. I… I took out my rage on the innocent people there in an attempt to turn his mind, and when he tried to stop me, I did not hold back.

“He fled to the shrine. I found him inside, small, wounded, weak. Human. I tried to tell him to give up. He told me, rightly so, that I was wrong. We fought again, by blade.

“He pleaded with me, but… I was clouded by jealousy and rage. Consumed by it.”

His voice was barely a whisper, and the deepest shame, regret, and guilt radiated from him as he said, “In the shrine, I struck down my brother.”

McCree stared silently at him.

“When I saw what I had done… I ran. All that jealousy and rage… it turned to horror, to fear. I could not face what I had done, could not return to the so-called family that drove me to kill my brother. I was cowardly. I spent years avoiding the clan, as they hunted for me. Eventually they… Met similar fates. Slaughtered by armies of men, tired of their tyranny. The island became long abandoned, and I returned. I made my home here. The treasure is… a way of coping. No amount of gold can replace my brother, but perhaps could… Make it up to him, where he is in the next life.”

The silence stretched on, to the point where Hanzo’s hands shook on his cup.

“Hanzo,” Jesse murmured. His own cup had long since been left empty on the table. He leaned forward and took the cup from Hanzo’s hands. He gripped his hands in both of his. “You ain't a monster. I can feel what you do. And you're not a bad person.”

Hanzo did not believe him; he felt the doubt.

“You did something bad. Sure. I've been there. I know how it is. Abandoning your family, letting that darkness take over you. Hurtin’ someone you love… I understand. God, do I, but you can't beat yourself up like this forever. You gotta move on. You can't atone for shit if you don't work toward forgiving yourself. And I know… I'm just a dumb little treasure hunting human, ain't got a candle to you, so maybe my opinion is worthless, but I think you can be a good man. Dragon? Heh, whatever.”

“You are more than that, Jesse,” Hanzo murmured. “I have met many foolish treasure-seekers, and never has one squirmed his way into my heart like you have.”

“You gettin’ romantic on me, there, sugar?” Jesse smiled. Hanzo’s feelings were softening, affection bleeding through. “I'm flattered.”

There was a hint of a smile on Hanzo's face. “Perhaps a bit. You are something special.”

“Not just ‘cause of the cowboy thing? That's why I usually hear that.”

There was a little dry amusement at that. “No, although that is… unique. Charming, however, I admit. There's just… something about you. Perhaps you have a brighter soul than most people. Perhaps you are somehow more attuned to the souls of others, and that is why you can feel how I do. I do not know. But something about you… I think it is good, though. Maybe it is simply an aspect of your personality. Whatever it is, I quite like it.”

McCree stilled as Hanzo spoke, still holding his hands. He was quiet for a moment, processing his words. “I think… That's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me in direct words. ‘You're not a bad shot’ ain't nearly as sweet.”

Hanzo frowned. “You speak so strangely of your loved ones. You call them family, and yet… It does not sound as though they treat you with much kindness.”

McCree was already shaking his head. “It's a complicated relationship.” He released Hanzo's hands. “If I can get another drink I can tell ya my own tragic tale.”

Hanzo hummed, but poured refills for each of them. “If you want, I would not care if you smoked. Your fingers are shaking.”

McCree gave him a wry grin. “You know me well already.” He downed a swig before pulling out a cigar. He'd cut himself to one a day, and fortunately had plenty. The taste of the smoke in his chest eased the quake of his hands.

He turned his face away to exhale, and when he looked back, he took a moment to look over the archer sitting straight and professional in his chair, ankles crossed neatly, cup of sake in both hands. He was real good-looking.

“I really don't know what fucked me up as a kid,” he started. “Parents weren’t married, but still real swell folks, all things considered. I usually lived with Papá but visited Ma on the rez on weekends. We were never real great on money. Bein’ Chicano and native, lotta the white folks ‘round don't like ya much. We did what we could, but… times got desperate. I loved my parents. Still do. Miss ‘em to death, but… I was tired of it. Of bein’ in a shithole little house, clingin’ to Papá’s rusty old truck every Friday after school to the rez, thinkin’ that truck was gonna bite it at any second.”

He took another drag. “There was a, uh… This gang. Caused loads of trouble, shuttlin’ illegal arms and drugs mostly. Lots between the borders. One of ‘em saw me shootin’ with Papá and must've impressed him. He found me and offered me a job.

“Deadlock became my life real quick. For the first time, I felt like I had a purpose. I had money. I had respect. They were nice… for criminals. A family away from home. And I was good at it. I was a goddamn great shot, ‘specially at that age, and pretty intimidating when I had to be. Got the nickname Deadeye while I was in there. They were real accepting once I started comin’ out, ‘cause hell, me bein’ a guy didn't change my aim none. That was kinda what really started puttin’ a strain on the relationship with my parents. Ma was okay, but Papá, raised Catholic… it was tough. Started spending more time with the gang just to avoid the disapproving looks, the deadnaming. I got pretty aggressive with it. Reckless, violent. Dropped outta school. I wasn't even sixteen when I killed a man for the first time.

“I was ‘round seventeen when we got in some shit. I went home, real stupid, and Papá found out. We got in a fight, I packed a bag, and hitched it with a few of the gang before the cops could catch us. Hardly a week later, we got caught, but I slipped out. Went a month livin’ homeless and wanted, before Reyes found me.”

Jesse felt a smile on his face thinking about him. “Him and his husband and their treasure hunting team were in the area lookin’ for something. They found me half-starved in the desert. I knew the area well, so I helped out, and turned out I was good at treasure hunting. Not terribly dissimilar to the gang work, but a hell of  a lot more interesting. Got an eye for valuables as good as my aim. I'm proud of it. So he offered me a permanent job.

“It was dangerous, but it's always been worth it. Still illegal, but I learned a lot, about the world, about history, about myself.

“As for the team… Gabriel Reyes is the boss. Looks tough as nails, and he is, but he's a real level-headed guy. Fantastic in a crisis. His husband, Jack Morrison, he was in the military before getting dishonorably discharged for insubordination. Jack’s a nice enough fella once you get past that tough army shell. There's Ana Amari, best sniper I ever met, more sass in her than salt in the sea. She's got a daughter, Fareeha, few years younger’n me. There's Reinhardt, Torbjorn… I'm usually with Reyes, though.”

McCree tipped his glass back. “He's like a father to me. Helped me get my surgery, get hormones, which lemme tell ya, ain't easy when yer on the run. We're close. But Ana’s really the only one who's outright about affectionate stuff. Might be a mom thing. Might be that most of us guys are thick-headed try-hards who can’t let themselves be vulnerable or whatever. Or maybe it's the trauma. Who knows.”

He tapped the ash off his cigar. “And that's the unfinished shortened story of Jesse McCree.”

“You care deeply for them,” Hanzo said softly after a moment of silence.

McCree nodded. “They’re all I got anymore.”

Hanzo simply looked at him. McCree couldn’t really tell his feelings. They were a swirling bundle. “Your parents… have they… any idea what happened to you?” he asked finally.

“No clue.” McCree shrugged. “Maybe. I’m sure I’ve been on the news a couple times, mostly the whole ‘wanted man spotted in Egypt pillaging pyramids’ or whatever kinda shit. I’m sure Ma is more likely to recognize me, though. If… if they’re still around.”

Hanzo leaned forward to take McCree’s hand this time, hesitating only a moment. “I am sorry,” he said solemnly, “that you had to go through such a difficult experience.”

“It shaped who I am,” McCree said simply.

“Well. Then perhaps, in retrospect, it was not entirely terrible, because it made you into a good person. For a thief.”

McCree smiled. “For a thief. And, hell, all this led me to you. If I’d had a normal childhood, who knows where I’d be? If I hadn’t even gotten caught? Maybe I’d still be movin’ trucks of guns through New Mexico. Maybe I’d be dead. This is just about the best place I think my life coulda led.”

“Led to you being shot with an arrow poisoned by dragon venom, then held basically as prisoner by the dragon himself,” Hanzo said dryly.

“Don’t think I’d say prisoner. I’m pretty sure I could leave and you wouldn’t stop me,” McCree said. He knew it. “I don’t really want to, either.” He squeezed Hanzo’s hand. “Not now, anyway.”

“I suppose you will have to leave, though.” Hanzo couldn’t look at him.

McCree felt a lump in his throat. “Yeah. They’ll be so worried…”

“Stay here.”

McCree blinked as Hanzo jumped to his feet. “Wait, what--”

Before he could finish his question, he had swept from the room. McCree stared after him and sighed, leaning back in his chair and raising his cigar to his lips again.

It was only a minute before Hanzo returned with a familiar bag and holster belt. “These are yours,” he said.

McCree brightened. “There’s Peacekeeper!” He stood and took the holster first, quickly putting it on and sighing at the familiar weight on his hip. He patted the revolver. “Ain’t she pretty?”

Hanzo had a hint of a smile. “You are fond of your weapon.”

“Sure. Ain’t you?” McCree accepted his bag, as well, but only to set it down on the floor.

“There is sentimental value in Storm Bow, yes.”

“Peacekeeper ain’t let me down before. It’s real good to have it back. Thanks.”

“It is your weapon. Is it not… old fashioned? I may be a little out of date myself, but I do know many things about modern weaponry.”

McCree shrugged. “Hard to be precise with an automatic, and I was never big on snipers or shotguns. Those are Ana and Reyes’s specialties, respectively. And, hell, goes with the aesthetic.” He rested his hand on the gun, not wanting to draw it, just feeling it at his side again.

“Perhaps you could show me how it works. Prove your aim is as good as you say.”

“I’d be happy to.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow at McCree’s expression. “Right now?”

He shrugged. “If you don’t mind, sure. Little lighthearted hangout after that heavy conversation. Let the dust settle and all that, right?”

“Hm. You make a point.” A smile crossed his face. “Perhaps a small contest of aim?”

McCree grinned. “You sure about that? I might not have had a thousand years of practice, but there’s a reason they call me Deadeye.”

“Color me intrigued… gunslinger.” Hanzo straightened his back. “I have a… what would you call it? Training area? In one of the other tunnels.”

“Sounds pretty good. I can’t waste too many bullets, but I can part enough to mark up a cottonwood.”

Hanzo looked confused. “What?”

“It’s a… never mind, I can tell ya later. History legend.”

“Ah. Yes, later. I will hold you to that. Come.” Hanzo turned on his heel with a two-fingered gesture to follow. McCree hiked up his belt and ambled after him, every lazy, jingling footstep worlds louder than Hanzo’s nearly silent strides.

From the central chamber, Hanzo collected his bow and quiver before leading McCree up a tunnel heading north and upwards. It curved a little, and McCree noticed it seemed more natural than the other caves, with fewer grooves from Hanzo’s claws and scales. There seemed to be a bit less gravel, too, which was nice, but made his spurs sound louder.

“I gotta admit,” McCree said as they walked, catching Hanzo’s attention. “Before we even get there. ‘Fraid my aim might be just a touch off.” He reached up with one hand to tap his shoulder, referring to the bandages underneath. “It’s healin’ up, but still givin’ me aches.”

Hanzo swore and turned around. “I-- I forgot all about that. You climbed all the way up the mountain with that!”

McCree shrugged sheepishly. “Yeah. Might’ve agitated it a bit doin’ that, but… it ain’t gonna stop me, just slow me down a little.”

“I did not even think… I am so sorry--”

McCree waved a hand. “Nah, don’t you worry your pretty little head none, darlin’, I’m fine!”

Hanzo huffed, worry rolling off of him, but he seemed to accept it. “Allow me to take a look at it later, to see how it is healing.”

“Better than an arrow wound usually would. I’m guessin’ some kinda dragon magic?”

“That is a way of putting it.”

“It don’t hurt that bad. Quit worryin’.”

Hanzo scowled at him. “You continue to give me reasons to worry about you, McCree. You humans… you are so fragile.”

“I am healthy as a horse, thank you very much.”

“Hm. I would have assumed a cowboy like yourself to be more knowledgeable about how delicate horses are.”

McCree snorted. “Don’t sass me, Hanzo.”

Hanzo gave the barest hint of a smile before continuing upwards.

It wasn’t long before the tunnel opened into a wide cave. McCree gasped softly at the sight. Like a large window, a portion of the wall and ceiling were carved out, revealing the mountains and the sea. Tree roots and moss hid much of the hole, but fresh air and sunlight came flowing in. Little birds and lizards scampered away.

In the room, there were straw dummies, roughly patched together, set along one wall, marked in paint. There was something that looked like a large ring on the floor with another, more well-built humanoid dummy in the center. Along another wall were a few handmade archery targets.

“Well, ain’t this lovely?” McCree said appreciatively. “I like it.”

“It is not the most high-tech and up to date, but for what I have had available to me…” Hanzo shrugged a little.

“It’s nice,” McCree told him. “Clever fella, ain’t ya, Han?”

He didn’t miss the ever so slight flush to Hanzo’s face at the compliment. “You are ridiculous.”

“So you’ve said. Part of my charm, though.”

Hanzo shook his head and took Storm Bow from his back. “Dummies, or targets?”

“Which is easier to patch up for ya?”

Hanzo inclined his head toward the dummies.

“Works for me, then.” McCree drew Peacekeeper with a flourish and a flashy grin. “Ah, feels great to have ‘er back.”

The archer scoffed and nocked an arrow. “Going for style points?”

McCree laughed and spun Peacekeeper a few times. “Bet on it, darlin’.”

“I suppose that is impressive, if quite silly and unnecessary.”

“So’re the spurs an’ chaps, but they look real cool.” He checked the chamber. Five bullets. He had another few sets of rounds in the belt. “Why don’t you go first? You are the host.”

“Very well.” Hanzo stepped up to a mark on the floor. McCree stepped back to watch.

The dragon took a breath in, then out. Steadying himself, McCree thought. He held himself straight, in the perfect archer’s stance, and raised his bow.

There was power in both the tiny, subtle movements and the inhuman stillness to his form. Even not faced with an enemy, Hanzo held himself with grace and might, intimidating enough on his own. The light breeze flowing in blew the ribbon in his hair elegantly behind him.

 _Oh, you’re fucked, boy,_ McCree thought about himself.

Hanzo’s fingers loosed, and the arrow flew. It struck the target in the very center of the face, impaling through between painted eyes. He lowered his bow and turned his head slightly to look at McCree from the corner of his eyes.

“I much prefer seein’ that aim from behind the bow,” McCree said. “Very nice.”

There was the smallest smile as he stepped back. “The floor is yours.”

“Thank you kindly,” he said as he stepped up. He moved a little closer, because he wasn’t a damn sniper like Hanzo. He gauged a good distance between himself and the dummy, leaning casually with one thumb tucked in his belt and the other tapping the hammer of Peacekeeper, held facing up beside his head.

With one swift motion he brought down his arm and fired. The resounding bang rattled in his ears and caused a flock of birds to startle from a tree outside.

McCree tipped his hat back and took a few steps forward to see the hole in the face of the dummy, squarely in its left eye. “Well, good to see I ain’t lost my touch.”

He turned to see Hanzo staring at him. The archer blinked. “I… I am impressed.”

McCree beamed, holstering the gun and tucking his thumbs in his belt again. “Like I said. There’s a reason they call me Deadeye.”

“Is that a nickname you much enjoy?”

“It sure as hell is accurate. There could be way worse nicknames to have. Least that one’s got a nice ring and a reputation.”

“A man like you certainly must have the latter.”

“Heh, yeah, I guess. Bit notorious.” He shrugged. “Don’t mind, though, just means that when it precedes me, intimidation’s easier and I don’t gotta shoot as much. Makes my job easier. Reyes helps, he’s got a way scarier rep than me, even though he’s kind of a softie.” He laughed.

Hanzo gave a nod. “I see.” His free hand fell to the rounded bottle at his waist and he held it out. “Here, a drink. Let’s see if you can’t shoot again. How many shots do you have left?”

McCree took the bottle. “Four.”

“Good. We can see who has the better aim.”

He unstoppered it and stepped aside for Hanzo take position again. “You’re cheatin’, trying to get me drunk.”

Hanzo scoffed, but he was grinning. “Is there nothing more fun than a little danger with liquor in your veins, gunslinger?”

“Fair ‘nough.” McCree tipped the bottle back. This was definitely way stronger than the other sake. “Oh, hoo, boy howdy. That’s real nice.”

“I thought you would appreciate that,” Hanzo said as he nocked his next arrow.

For the record, McCree would later insist, he was absolutely still a fantastic shot, even when he drank more than he should have and even Hanzo got the little bit of a buzz from an equal amount of alcohol. Damn his tolerance level.

The room was growing dark and McCree was giggly and a little clumsy with his gun fairly soon. They took breaks to talk and to eat. McCree was allowed to try using Storm Bow, and failed quite miserably. Between the liquor and the many, many years it had been since he had tried a bow, it wasn’t much of a surprise to him.

Hanzo called it quits a bit early, worried for McCree with the drink. He packed away Storm Bow and made sure that Peacekeeper was unloaded, for McCree’s safety rather than his own, before helping him to his room.

McCree had his arm slung around Hanzo’s shoulders as the archer helped him to bed. “Hoo, boy, that sake’s some strong stuff,” he slurred.

“Well, for as much as you drank? Perhaps I should be more cautious in the future,” Hanzo said dryly as he tried to pry McCree off of him.

“Nah, no, I… Not tired yet, you can stay,” McCree said, clinging to him. “Just a while?”

The dragon sighed. “Very well. For a little while. I suppose it will not hurt.” Hanzo shifted the nest around and settled beside McCree. “You are quite drunk.”

“It’s a state of bein’ for me, Han, s’like a quarter of my life. Least I ain’t angry or nothin’, huh?”

“Your accent is very difficult to understand.”

“You’re difficult to understand.” McCree giggled at his stupid joke.

Hanzo shook his head. “You are going to regret this.”

“No more’n any other time I’ve gotten this drunk. My liver might not be too grateful, but whatever. Ain’t like I’m gonna live long enough to worry about that. Or lung cancer.”

Hanzo frowned and sat up a little. “What do you mean?”

McCree shrugged. “I’ll prob’ly die on the job long ‘fore liver failure or my lungs give out or anything else like that. I’d rather go out that way, anyway. Cliche, maybe, but I always thought I’d go down in a fight. Take someone with me. Hope whoever takes me out ain’t a coward about it, though, I’d rather take a bullet in the sun than a knife at night, y’know? Or maybe I’ll bite it adventuring. Wouldn’t that be dramatic.” He gave a loud, barking laugh. “Fallin’ off a mountain or drownin’ in a raging river. Heard rattlesnake venom kills ya fast, dependin’ on the kind. Or those freaky snails you ain’t s’posed to touch.”

“Is this something you think about often? Your own mortality?”

“Yeah. Never know when death’ll come, in this job. Maybe the drinkin’ and smokin’ is just pushin’ his horse a little faster, but that’s fine. I’ll’ve had some fun while I was here, won’t be nobody to miss me much.”

“I would,” Hanzo said softly.

McCree frowned and struggled to sit up. He felt the sadness from him. “Little old me? Really? You’re a fuckin’ dragon, Han, whatcha talkin’ about? I’m gonna die one day, long before you will. Even if I live an average lifespan I’m halfway there anyway.”

There was frustration from him now, too. “I… I know. And I am confused why I care so much. You are a child compared to me. But I… the thought of you… not existing… I do not like it. Despite only knowing you for this short time, you certainly have come to mean very much to me.”

“Huh.” If he were sober, McCree was sure he could think more deeply into that. “My good looks and personality? My endless Southern charm?”

“You speak so lightly of death,” Hanzo murmured. “You do not fear it?”

“I’m terrified,” McCree assured him. “I’m so scared of dying. God, ain’t we all? But at the same time… it’ll come when it does. Ain’t nothin’ I can do about it. And maybe there’s part of me that looks forward to it. Nothin’ left to worry about. No more nights goin’ hungry or cold or sick. No more stressin’ about the terrible state of the world. No more panic attacks thinkin’ about all the shit I’ve been through.” He grimaced. “Okay, maybe I’m a little more okay with dyin’ than I thought. S’okay, though. I ain’t lookin’ for it, just not avoiding it.”

“That isn’t healthy, Jesse. You deserve so much better.” Hanzo looked down at him with worry. “Your bad habits, your addiction, they are so self destructive…”

McCree burrowed into the nest, bitterness filling him as fear roiled in his gut. He didn’t want to think about it. He was a live-in-the-moment type guy. It was why he never liked staying in one place. “Why does it bother you so much? My own life, not yours.”

“I know that,” Hanzo snapped. He inhaled sharply, but then breathed out slower. “I care about you. I… I have not cared about anyone except myself in a very long time. I do not mind that, either. Strangely enough. It is something I will figure out later. As I have learned from you, it… can be beneficial to worry about things later.”

McCree looked up at him. He was… so pretty. There was that little furrow in his brow, which he’d noticed he got when he was thinking hard about what he wanted to say. His fingers were very still on his knees. _Oh, no, Jesse,_ he thought to himself, _don’t go crushing on him now_.

Oops.

“Perhaps I can… see something of my brother in you,” Hanzo said, and McCree got the feeling he wasn’t entirely talking to him anymore. “The desire to be yourself, to make a name outside of your past. You are as lighthearted and jovial as he was, and always, as you put it, ‘rolling with the punches.’ And you stand up for what you believe is right. Unfortunately… that led to his end.” Hanzo bowed his head a bit. “And I do not wish the same fate on you.”

“I just… it’s weird,” McCree said softly. “Someone sayin’ I’m important to ‘em. Don’t hear that much. It’s all subtext with the team, but with you… you’re straightforward. No beatin’ around the bush. I respect that. And I like that about you. Not a passive-aggressive bone in ya. But hearing you say that you care about me.” McCree sat up. “That means more than you know.”

“But I do,” Hanzo insisted. He reached out to place the pads of two fingers on McCree’s chest, over his heart. “I cannot explain why, but we are connected. You know how I feel, and I know how you feel. Our fates are entwined, Jesse McCree.”

McCree was pretty sure it wasn’t just the alcohol that had his breath missing from his lungs. “I think I’m real fine with that, Hanzo Shimada. Never been a man to believe in fate, but hell, I think I’d follow you to the ends of the earth.”

“I imagine it would be the other way around,” Hanzo said with a smile. “Have you not already seen them?”

“There’s plenty I’ve yet to experience,” he murmured, leaning forward ever so slightly. _Stop it,_ he warned himself.

“And there is plenty you will experience.” Hanzo’s gaze was intense, almost uncomfortably so, to McCree’s drunken mind. “You have so much left.”

“So do you. It’s a big, big world, Han. I could show you. Oceans that span farther than the eye can see, jungles so deep it’s night under the trees in the middle of the day, temples so ancient it’s a miracle they still stand. The pyramids, the Nazca lines, Salar De Uyuni, the Great Barrier Reef, the Northern Lights… God, there’s so much out there. Those are just the well-known ones. I know the secret places. The hidden tombs and structures and caves. Sights almost no one else has seen. I wanna show you. I want you to see everything. I know, I know you wanna stay here, but Hanzo… you need to live. You need to… to… be something. Somethin’ bigger. Better. You gotta… y’can’t just…”

“I can’t, Jesse,” he whispered. “You do not have much time. I have such terrible sins on my soul.”

McCree reached up to grip his shoulders. “And I don’t care. I don’t give a damn about that. And if what you’ve said is true, I doubt your brother would, either. He’d want you to move on. Get over the clan. Leave that tyranny behind and start over. Ain’t that what you said he wanted to do?”

Hanzo leaned forward, and McCree nearly choked on his tongue. But the dragon merely rested his forehead against McCree’s. He was cool, and felt lovely against his feverish skin. “He must be honored, Jesse, before I can do anything. I must make up for my sins and those of my family.”

“You can’t banish yourself. This is a prison for you now. You’re your own warden. You can’t live like this, darlin’, you just can’t.”

“I do what I must.”

“You care too much.”

“Not enough.”

“I care about you.”

“I know.” He swore softly. “I know.”

“Fate…”

“A cruel mistress, is that not what is said? Perhaps not cruel, but confused.” He sighed, and McCree drank in the metal and sandalwood. He felt a little dizzy. “Perhaps I am just a fool.”

“Hanzo.”

His cool fingers reached up to brush his face, running through McCree’s scruffy beard. “You are drunk, Jesse.”

“I usually am. Don’t change nothin’. You know.”

“I do. And so do you.”

“Damn…”

“When you are sober, there can be… discussion. For now… rest.”

“Hanzo. Han. Hanners.” McCree tried to hold his eyes, focusing as hard as he could. “You are important to me. I wanna take you to New Mexico and show you the stars from the desert. I want to make you all the dishes I grew up eating. I want to show you my traditions, from both sides of my family.”

Hanzo breathed out softly, feeling the gravity in the words.

“I wanna know everything about you. I wanna make years of memories with you. I want to experience the world with you. As friends, as… as… I don’t know. Something. Together. Fuck, I’m too… I can’t… English is hard.”

A bit of a smile curved Hanzo’s lips. “I understand. Jesse… we can talk later.”

Slowly, McCree nodded. He slumped forward, letting his head slide down to rest on Hanzo’s shoulder. “Don’t leave.”

“Lay back.”

“Don’t leave, Hanzo.”

“I am here. You need to rest.”

Hanzo helped settle McCree into laying down. He clung to the archer, wanting that physical touch, and wanting to convince Hanzo that he should stay with him. If he let go, Hanzo might not come back.

But for now, at least, it seemed like Hanzo was okay with staying, giving into McCree’s desperate fingers and tangling their limbs together. It wasn’t familiar, but wholly welcomed, and McCree thought that he could easily get used to this.

“Good night, Jesse,” Hanzo whispered.

“G’night, Han,” he replied, words slurred, before letting sleep take him.

He dreamt about Hanzo again. He flowed between forms, and McCree showed him all the places he’d been. Eventually the dream moved to the American southwest, and the hot, familiar desert. But before McCree could take him to meet his mother, the sun became hotter, brighter, blinding. It cut a searing pain into his head.

He woke up with a gasp as his head throbbed.

Oh, _fuck him,_ he was really hungover.

Nausea bubbled, but it wasn’t terrible. That sake went down smoother than whiskey did, and he’d eaten enough that it kept down. He probably should have had more water to diminish the hangover, but oops, too late now.

He bit back a pained groan and buried his face in Hanzo’s shoulder.

Hanzo’s… shoulder.

His memories had gotten a little fuzzy before he fell asleep, but he remembered what happened, most of what they’d talked about.

Hanzo had stayed.

They were almost spooning, a little more disorganized and sprawled. Hanzo was still cooler than a normal man, keeping off the usual “fell asleep drunk, wake up boiling hot” feeling McCree was used to. Hanzo’s breathing was soft and rhythmic.

This was… really nice. It was comfortable. Something McCree was sure he could easily get used to.

And it kind of scared him.

This wasn’t a man. This was a fucking dragon. An ancient, dangerous, magical, nearly god-like being.

And yet here he was, curled around the sleeping human form of this incredibly powerful creature, like he would be keeping him safe from danger. Here he was, examining the softened angles of Hanzo’s sharp features with far too much fondness. Here he was, hearing Hanzo’s words echoing in his head. _Our fates are entwined._

God damn, he was royally fucked.

He wasn’t a man to believe in love at first sight. He thought he’d take time, go slow, but… this wasn’t normal. It wouldn’t be normal.

Could he even think of it, in good conscious, though?

If, and it seemed painfully hopefully true by Hanzo’s words, if Hanzo reciprocated this more-than-a-crush feeling… he’d be gone in maybe fifty years. Hanzo was over a thousand. Fifty years was fleeting for Hanzo. And then McCree would be dust six feet under, leaving Hanzo alone…

Besides that, McCree couldn’t stay here. He was okay for now, but he knew he’d get antsy to leave soon. He hated settling. He needed that thrill, that danger, that focus on a hunt for the next cache of treasure, of history.

No matter how much he liked Hanzo, could love him, he knew he couldn’t, wouldn’t, stay.

But would Hanzo go with him? McCree brushed a stray lock from his loose ponytail out of his face. He didn’t know. He doubted it. Hanzo seemed quite set in his ways.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft grunt and Hanzo shifting. McCree panicked, wondering if he should pretend to be asleep or something, when Hanzo’s dark eyes fluttered open and immediately flicked upward to seek his own.

Hanzo smiled a little, a slight flush blossoming on his face like the cherry blossoms he loved so much. “Good morning,” he said with a touch of amusement and nervousness.

“Mornin’, Han,” McCree replied.

“Have you been awake for long?”

“Only a minute. Long enough for my brain to start goin’ haywire and overthink everything, not long enough for my bladder to catch up to all the sake.”

Hanzo stirred and turned himself to sit up. McCree half-heartedly followed suit. “I did not… necessarily… intend to fall asleep here with you.”

McCree softened. “It’s fine. Kept me company. Best sleep I’ve had in ages. I made you stay, anyway.”

“Do you recall much of what… we discussed, or…”

“Yeah. It ain’t often I get blackout drunk. Usually only when I wanna forget things. I stopped before it got that far.” He picked at a stray thread on the shirt he was wearing.

“So then… I do not know when… a good time to discuss… things may be.”

McCree hated thinking about feelings. “I dunno. I’m still kinda hungover, though…”

“Of course.” Hanzo nodded. He was nervous; McCree could feel his own uncertainty twofold with that weird emotional bullshit. “I will get breakfast. You should stay put so you don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’ve been drunker than this, I’ll be fine.” He started to sit up straighter and screwed his eyes shut with a hiss.

“Exactly my point.” Hanzo’s gentle fingers swiped along the side of McCree’s face, unsticking a few strands of hair from his sweaty skin. “I will bring you water, as well. Hydration will help the headache, although I do not have any sort of painkillers aside from topical poultices.”

“That’s fine. It ain’t that bad.”

Hanzo clearly did not believe that, but let it be as he stood. “I will be right back.”

“I’ll miss you,” McCree half-joked before he could stop himself.

Hanzo smiled before slipping from the room. McCree slumped back with a groan and covered his face with his hands.

Of all the ridiculous situations he’d ever been in, this was probably both the worst and best.

He lowered his hands and glared at the cave walls. He felt a bit stifled. Maybe after eating, he could convince Hanzo to take the both of them up to the shrine again so he could get some fresh air. It could help clear their heads. But he also didn’t want to risk making the dragon upset, seeing the sword in there…

He wondered what Hanzo’s brother’s name was. He was afraid to ask.

Hanzo seemed so convinced that he could honor his brother like this… but McCree wasn’t sure. He wasn’t really well versed on the tradition in this place, but he knew that if he were to die, he wouldn’t want his loved ones cooping themselves up like trapped pigeons with a useless hoard of gold in some attempt to honor his name. Especially with the little information Hanzo had shared about his brother. Adventurous, active, curious. Hanzo was doing quite opposite of what it sounded like his brother valued.

But likely, Hanzo had been here for very many years. McCree doubted that saying as much to him would convince him to leave.

It was a short wait for Hanzo’s return. He indeed had a large cup of fresh water, which McCree gratefully accepted. He was still a little clumsy with the chopsticks, much to Hanzo’s amusement, but hungry enough to do his best.

“Jesse,” Hanzo said softly from where he sat leaning against a wall. “... Are you feeling any better?”

He’d changed whatever he was going to ask. “Bit,” McCree replied. “Though I’m thinkin’ I might be goin’ a little stir-crazy at the moment.”

“We can return to the shrine, if you wish, for a while.”

“Sure. If… if that ain’t gonna bother you.”

“I will be… alright.”

McCree frowned and peered at him. “You sure?”

Hanzo sighed, looking away. “Being there during this time of year… it is… painful. It is nearly the very day it happened.”

“Oh.” The anniversary, then. Those were always pretty painful. “If it’s that bad for you, we don’t gotta--”

“No, it is okay.” Hanzo tried to smile, but McCree felt his roiling emotions.

“Han…” McCree set aside his empty plate and stood. He stepped over to Hanzo and sat beside him. “I know it… probably isn’t really my place to say, but… for as much pain as you’ve clearly suffered from this, I really think that… y’know, maybe you’ve… made up for it? In a way? Served your sentence, as it were. How long have you been here?”

“Three hundred years,” he murmured.

McCree shook his head. “Hell of a life sentence.”

“It is more than that,” he said softly, and McCree’s chest tightened at the pain and sorrow from the dragon. “It is not mere justice. It is atonement.”

McCree reached over and placed his hand atop Hanzo’s. “I can’t convince you of anything you don’t wanna hear,” he said. “I’m just tellin’ you my honest opinion. You ain’t really honoring him like this.”

Hanzo stared down at McCree’s hand. McCree watched his throat bob as he swallowed. “I will take you to the shrine,” he said softly. “I… cannot talk about this, right now.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“You have my best interest at heart, I know. This is… complicated. I do respect you for caring for me, and I am grateful.”

McCree offered a small smile. “I’m here for you, Hanzo.”

After a moment, the two stood. The trip to the shrine was quiet, more somber than their previous flights, though it still left exhilaration in McCree’s gut. He’d never get used to flying like this. Planes couldn’t come anywhere near this feeling.

When they landed, McCree slid down and immediately flopped on his back on the soft bed of flower petals. His hat tipped forward to half-cover his face. “Have I said how nice grass is?” he said. “Grass is fantastic.”

Hanzo peered down at him in amusement. _It is just grass._

“Yeah, but I never got this as a kid. Too dry. My yard was mostly dead, at both my parents’ houses. Had a nice little garden at Ma’s, though.” He ran his fingers over the grass hidden under the cherry blossoms. “This is just real nice.”

Hanzo settled down, tail curled in a large, loose circle. _I am glad you are enjoying this._

McCree hummed a bit with a nod and adjusted his hat to completely cover his eyes from the sun. “Not a lotta shade, though. Well, it’s warm, at least. Kinda surprised. Mountains are usually pretty chilly.”

_It is spring, and quite close to the sea. It is a bit unseasonable, however, but not worryingly so. Every so often, this happens._

“Global warming,” McCree muttered. “Or somethin’.” He let himself splay out, the sun warm. “It’s so quiet here.”

 _It is without you talking so much._ Hanzo was teasing.

“Gotta fill the silence, y’know? Drives me nuts when it’s too quiet. Little voices start up.”

Hanzo’s tail brushed against McCree’s arm, and he trailed his fingers over the sapphire scales and golden hair. _Surely it becomes tiresome. Do you not run out of things to say?_ There was no animosity.

“I usually start singin’, then. Me and Reyes would play guitar over the fire at night, sometimes I’d dabble in violin if we had one around, but I’m not the best.”

_You are musically inclined?_

McCree snorted. “In less words, sure. Didn’t I say? Maybe not. Huh. Reyes is better than me, though. He plays a fantastic Spanish guitar.”

_Is music important in your culture?_

“Ain’t it so in most? I’m still a little upset I didn’t get in touch with the Mexican side of music, but Ma made sure I knew lots of traditional music from the tribe, ‘specially for ceremonies and the like. Mostly, though, guess I just play from movie soundtracks and shit.” He gave a laugh. “Reyes encourages it, ‘cause it drives Morrison crazy when we get Ecstasy of Gold stuck in his head.”

_I do not know what that means._

“I figured. It’s a song from a movie, an old Western. A classic.”

_Are there words?_

McCree shook his head. “Nah. But, I mean, if you’re really interested, I could… hum it? Unless you got a guitar sittin’ around somewhere.”

_I do not believe I do, not one you may be familiar with. Most instruments I have in my hoard are old, traditional. And some broken, I fear. I am quite intrigued._

McCree smiled. He took a moment to recall the familiar tune. He had hummed and whistled it to himself hundreds of times, in quiet moments in camp or a mile in the air or deep in half-ruined temples. Perhaps it was a bit silly, but it was always a favorite movie of his, one he watched many times with his father on late weekday nights with too-salty popcorn and off brand cola.

His voice rumbled in the quiet of the mountain as he hummed, and he felt Hanzo relaxing beside him to listen.

The tune didn’t belong here, but still felt like home. Here, this lush colorful island of Japan, it was about as far from the dry red canyons of New Mexico as anything could be, but somehow… it felt comfortable. It felt right.

As he let it drift off into silence, he felt Hanzo’s heavy tail against his arm. Not doing anything, just… calmly touching him. It was a companionable quiet.

_Thank you._

McCree smiled and traced his scales with his fingertips. Hanzo began to purr softly.

Neither fell asleep, but didn’t speak. McCree couldn’t take the quiet for long, and filled it with another whistle from another song. Hanzo listened with rapt attention.

_You enjoy singing._

McCree trailed off. He tilted his hat to see Hanzo staring at him. “Yeah. Didn’t used to be good at it, if you’d believe. God damn, I used to be nearly soprano.” He chuckled. “Once my voice start gettin’ deeper, I tried singin’ again, and lo and behold. Always makes me happy. Reminds me I’m who I wanna be.”

_You humans are… strange. I do not completely understand your more rigid gender structures. We fluctuate as needed, physically, and even psychologically we do not tend toward anything in particular. That being said… I am glad that you are happy with yourself._

“Wild.” McCree shifted back a little bit to lean on Hanzo’s tail. “I ever mention how cool you are?”

_A few times._

“Y’all dragons are real neat. Least I’m guessin’ any other is just as much, if they’re anything like you.”

His purring intensified, and McCree felt his fluster at the compliment.

“Lemme sing for you again?”

_Yes. I would appreciate it._

He wished he had a guitar. His fingers tapped on his leg as he crooned out a song Reyes taught him.

Hanzo suddenly went very, very still. McCree stopped singing and sat up. “Han?”

_Be silent for a moment._

Hanzo raised his head, then stood, wary of his tail around McCree’s comparatively small body.

_Someone is coming._

A chill went down McCree’s spine. He got up as well, loading Peacekeeper in the same motion.

The dragon curled his tail loosely around McCree, protective. _There are several people approaching. They are not being very stealthy._

Panic flooded McCree with a slew of other emotions. Most likely it was his team, unless there was another treasure hunting team somewhere on the island. As far as he knew they were the only ones. “Han. Han, what if it’s my team?”

 _I will bring them no harm if they are,_ he promised.

If it wasn’t, McCree was pretty sure Hanzo would kill them.

_Stay near me. I am much more bulletproof than you are._

“Got it.” McCree tapped the trigger nervously. If it was his team… what would happen? Would they attack Hanzo? Could he stop them before they hurt him? Would they stop? If they didn’t hurt him, could he go with them again?

Hanzo’s head turned slowly. A ripple of confusion bubbled out from him. _They are on what was once the path that led here from the village. It was nearly buried after eight hundred years--how did they locate it?_

“They’re clever. Maybe it’s accident?”

It was a few tense moments of waiting. McCree followed Hanzo’s gaze, trying to peer through the trees, but saw nothing.

A sudden call broke the silence. Not a shout of surprise, or a battlecry; more like a greeting. Hanzo jerked his head back.

From the trees stepped a man. He wore a combination of traditional and modern clothing, mostly shades of green and white, with a bright orange scarf hiding the lower half of his face and a wide hat shadowing the top. There was a long curved sword on his back and a smaller beneath it. The man bowed low and spoke loudly and clearly in Japanese.

_Who are you that dares invade my home?_

The man straightened and replied.

Hanzo tilted his head a little. _I know of whom you speak. You bring them here, to this place? If you knew where to find me, then surely, you know why you should have done the opposite._

The man sounded almost sad in his response. McCree peeked around Hanzo’s long body to get a better look at him, but he was almost completely covered.

Hanzo tightened his body, careful not to risk crushing McCree. _How do you know of me?_

The stranger began to reply, but must have heard the tiny jingle of McCree’s spurs. His head turned. “Ah, my apologies,” he said in English. “I did not realize that he was here as well. He was only hearing half of this conversation, wasn’t he?”

Hanzo growled.

“Jesse McCree, yes?” McCree’s name was no stranger in his accent than Hanzo’s. “Your friends have been very worried about you. They are quite luck that I found them. I knew you would not be dead, and that Hanzo would have ensured your health.”

Hanzo bristled. _How do you know my name?_

“I have known of the Shimada clan for many years,” the man said calmly. “I know you have lived here for a very long time, in solitude. But why… is a mystery to me. That is my purpose for coming, and for helping McCree’s friends locate him. They are waiting behind me for--”

“--not waiting any longer for this guy to WHAT THE FUCK?”

McCree groaned. “God dammit, Morrison!”

“... for me to make sure it would be safe,” finished the stranger dryly as he turned to the man who had emerged from the trees. “Is it common for Americans to be so impatient?”

“What the fuck is that thing?”

Hanzo turned a look of are-you-kidding-me to McCree, who shrugged helplessly.

“I did tell you,” the stranger said. “You did not believe me.”

“That’s a dragon? That’s a dragon!”

McCree holstered Peacekeeper and, before Hanzo could stop him, climbed up and over his body to land outside the curl of his tail. “Morrison! Hey!”

His wide eyes turned. “McCree? What the hell?”

“Long story. I’m fine. Everyone’s okay.” He reached out to touch Hanzo’s scales. “He’s a friend.”

“Well, the others may as well come too,” muttered the stranger. He gave a shout into the trees.

“Oh, this ain’t gonna end well,” McCree said.

There was a series of grumbles, and then alarmed shouts when two others emerged and their eyes fell on the massive blue dragon towering over them.

“Yeah, yeah, dragon, we get it,” McCree drawled loudly. “Great to see y’all, too.”

“Jesse!” yelped Ana. She took a step forward but a soft growl from Hanzo froze her. “What is this?”

“You’re okay,” Reyes said, voice quiet. His eyes flicked between McCree and Hanzo.

“Right as rain. Uh, yeah, this is Hanzo.” McCree held up a hand to the dragon. “Hanzo, meet Jack, Gabriel, and Ana.”

 _Your treasure hunting team._ Hanzo leaned his head forward. _I have heard much._

“Yeah, he doesn’t shut up, does he?” Reyes said.

McCree offered him a friendly gesture.

“Someone owes you an apology,” Ana said to the stranger, turning her glare on Morrison.

“He seems a little… preoccupied,” said the stranger in amusement. “I am surprised you believed me.”

“Less that than trusted you,” she replied bluntly. She eyed Hanzo again. “Can he… you… understand us?”

_Yes._

“You took care of him?” Gabriel asked.

“Yeah,” McCree replied for Hanzo. “It’s a long story. But I’m fine, see? Proud of me yet? I’m alive, and I befriended a dragon.”

Hanzo snorted.

“You have been here this whole time? We were worried sick, Jesse!”

He ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am, and I’m sorry. I… got hurt. Wasn’t in any shape to go anywhere, so Hanzo helped me out. Lucky for me, ‘cause he coulda killed me easily. And you can reckon well why I wasn’t terribly keen on lettin’ y’all know once I was feeling better, ‘cause he coulda been hurt. Not a whole lotta dragons left, and if I was still hurt pretty bad when ya showed up, who knows what coulda happened.”

“Oh, Jesse,” Ana sighed.

“No, I… you made the right choice, kid,” Reyes said, crossing his arms. “I don’t like it, but it was smart.”

McCree grinned and tipped back his hat. “Learned from the best, didn’t I?”

Reyes scoffed and glanced at his husband. “Jack, put your eyes back in their sockets.”

“How are you guys so… okay with this? Is this real?”

“We just went over that, old man, keep up,” McCree said.

Hanzo snorted in amusement at that. _You did not exaggerate about your… companions._

“They’re about as exaggerated as living people can be.” McCree eyed the stranger again. “So y’all wanna talk about your new friend?”

“He found us while we were looking for you in that village,” Ana said. “He wouldn’t say how he got here, but offered to help. He told us about a legend of the dragons on the island, but…”

“We thought it was just a myth. Dragons, right?” Reyes shook his head in disbelief. “He said he thought that the dragon that lived here had protected you. We assumed it was some other thing. Like an old temple you might’ve taken refuge in, or even some loner old guy.”

McCree barked out a laugh. “Hanzo might as well be a loner old guy!”

Hanzo growled at him with no bite behind it. _I am not that old._

“Oh, hush yer mouth, you’re pretty damn old.”

_I will snack on your bones._

“Yeah, bet you will,” he muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. Hanzo’s amused feeling turned quickly to something flustered when he realized what he was implying. Loud enough for everyone to hear, he said, “Yeah, Hanzo found me and took me in for a while to make sure I was okay. We got to chitchattin’ while I was resting up, and turns out dragons are real swell. Got pretty close, I’d say.” He patted Hanzo’s side.

Hanzo lowered his head to meet McCree’s eye. _I am inclined to agree. Your gunslinger is quite the fascinating individual._

“But how did you know this shrine was here?” McCree frowned at the stranger. “Hanzo said everyone who knew about it died five hundred years ago with the last of the dragons, before he even came back here.”

“I have been here many times,” the stranger replied, gaze on the shrine. He inclined his head toward the dragon. “May I go inside?” He added something in Japanese.

Hanzo seemed uneasy. _Touch nothing. I will… accept your offering and allow your meditation. As payment for reuniting  J-- McCree with his companions._

The stranger bowed again and swept forward to duck into the shrine.

“Jesse, boy,” Ana said softly. She held out her hands.

McCree spared a glance to Hanzo before stepping forward. He heard Hanzo shift uneasily behind him but paid it no mind for now. He smiled down at Ana as she took his hands. “Ma’am.”

“You’re a fool.”

He made a face and nodded. “Yeah, I’m aware. All’s well that ends well, though.”

She scoffed. “Only you would get into this sort of trouble.”

“I’ve said it before,” Reyes started, “you’re a magnet for it. If there’s trouble, it’ll find him. But it always comes with a stroke of luck.”

He grinned at him. “Guess the universe has to balance itself out somehow.”

“How’d you get hurt?” Reyes crossed his arms with worry. “When we were on the coms…”

“Animal,” he lied. “Got my arm.” He took one hand back to brush along his shoulder. “Hanzo made sure I was fine, though. I didn’t really see what it was, exactly.”

Reyes frowned. “That’s worrying.”

“It was prob’ly a snake or something, I reckon. Poison.”

“Venom,” Morrison corrected.

“Whatever.” McCree rolled his eyes. “Whatever it is, I’m all better.” He beamed over his shoulder at Hanzo. “Magic and shit. Real cool.”

Reyes stepped around McCree to look up at Hanzo. The dragon looked back, and McCree could feel his expectant curiosity.

“You saved Jesse,” he said. “That’s something I’m grateful for.”

 _It was well worth it,_ Hanzo replied, lowering his head to better see Reyes. _He has been wonderful company._

“Something we agree on.”

“Aw, shucks, boss.”

“Don’t think I’m going soft on you.”

“You’ve always been soft,” Ana scoffed. She looked up at the dragon as well. “Is there a way we can repay you for taking care of him?”

Hanzo looked as taken aback as he felt. _No. I… do not think any sort of repayment is necessary. His company has been plenty._

“Hanzo,” McCree started. He released Ana’s hands to go back over to him. “You know what I wanna ask you.”

Hanzo sighed and closed his eyes. _And you know my response._

“Please.” _I don’t want to lose you,_ he thought desperately.

 _Jesse--_ he suddenly cut off and the sudden burst of emotions made McCree choke  a little and clutch at his chest. Anger, mostly, and fear, lots of fear. That same regret he felt every time he mentioned his brother.

Hanzo snapped his head toward the shrine as Reyes reached for McCree. “What the hell?”

McCree waved him off. “What is it?”

_Go in. Stop him._

McCree didn’t even question it, bolting forward and pulling out Peacekeeper.

“Hey!” he yelled.

The stranger pulled his hand back from where his fingers were hovering over the blade of Hanzo’s katana. He turned around, and McCree could just barely see part of his face. Large, old scars crossed his flesh, and their pattern made it clear that there were many, many more.

“What the hell d’you think you’re doin’?”

The stranger looked back at the blade with a strange look in his eyes. “I know this weapon.”

“Leave it alone. Don’t touch it.”

The stranger stared at him for a few moments and murmured something to himself before sweeping past him.

Hanzo was snarling as he stepped out. _I told you not to--_

“Why are you so distraught, dragon?” asked the man as McCree stopped behind him. “What has brought this grief upon you that you would exile yourself for all this time?”

Hanzo lifted his head, and McCree swallowed Hanzo’s pain and guilt. _That is none of your concern._

“I know the legends.” The man tipped his head a bit. “They say many years ago, the dragons of the north and south wind, two brothers, ruled together. But then, they began to fight. The dragon of the south wind struck down his brother. When he realized what he had done, he fled.”

Hanzo was so scared, so full of guilt and sorrow.

“But here you are. You have returned. You stand here, in the very place where you murdered your brother. You have been here for so long… why?”

McCree felt him crack.

_There is no redemption for what I have done. I can only honor him. I did what I believed I had to do. I was wrong._

“Do you really think you can honor him by locking yourself away to wither in your own guilt?” The stranger shook his head. “You have inflicted wounds upon yourself. You must heal. Do not let them fester for much longer, or it will eat you from the inside out.”

 _You do not know me,_ Hanzo hissed.

“What would Genji think if he saw you like this, Hanzo?”

Hanzo jerked back. McCree gasped at the visceral reaction, making the stranger glance over at him with a small look of worry.

_You cannot know… no one knows his name._

“Speak to me on my level, and perhaps you will understand.”

Hanzo was shaking visibly. He locked his eyes with McCree. After a moment, McCree nodded. “It’s okay, Hanzo. I’m with you,” he murmured.

“He cares deeply for you,” the man said softly. “That is not something you should take lightly.”

“Who are you?”

The man turned back to Hanzo.

McCree skirted around the stranger. “Uh, hey, y’all, don’t freak out about this, okay? Totally normal, I swear!”

Hanzo melted away, and McCree stood right by him when his human form breathed out a shaky breath.

“Okay, what the fuck.” Reyes threw up his hands and turned around.

Ana said something in Arabic that McCree could roughly understand the meaning of. Something about magic and unfamiliar experiences.

“Guess this explains something,” Morrison grumbled, earning a confused look from Reyes. McCree shot a glare at him before turning back to Hanzo.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“No,” he admitted, “but you are a help.”

“I’ve got your back.” He brushed his fingers against Hanzo’s before turning to the stranger.

“It has been a very long time since humans have seen you like this,” the stranger said. “You must trust this cowboy very much. Unusual for dragons.”

“It is none of your concern. Who are you that you know my brother’s name, and think yourself worthy enough to lecture of about honor?”

“The sword inside,” said the man. “That is what you used when you dealt the final blow. You dare not touch it. You are afraid.”

“You do not know me.”

“Do you really think,” said the man, more intense this time, leaning forward slightly, “that you honor Genji by hiding yourself away? By hoarding anything of value? Would he be really be honored by that?

McCree reached out to stop Hanzo as he snarled and went for an arrow. “Han, Hanzo,” he said. “Look at me.”

Hanzo breathed out and turned his gaze.

McCree rested his hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “It hurts. I know it does. But I really don’t think he’s wrong.”

Hanzo glared at the stranger.

“You cannot stay here forever and hide away until your own bitterness and self-loathing swallow you whole,” said the stranger. “You still have a purpose in this life… _anija_.”

Hanzo’s eyes widened and he stepped back. McCree’s fingers tightened, but there was no fabric to grip, as he tried to deal with the overwhelming emotions. “What? No. No, my brother… he is dead.”

The stranger reached up and pulled his scarf from his face. The scarring continued down, vanishing under his collar, and McCree realized that they were very clearly slashes from a sword. From a katana, if he had to guess.

As for his face, it was young, as though very attractive before his attack, with dark eyes still alight with mischief, his hair that peeked down dyed lime green. He stared at Hanzo and smiled.

Hanzo made a choking sound. “But… how… Genji…”

Genji tied his scarf looser around his neck now. “I thought I was dead, as well. But… an angel found me. She gave me new purpose. New life. It was difficult at first.” Genji raised his arm, and McCree felt shock at the arm made of a strange pale silver metal, fantastically more advanced than his own prosthetic, marked with tiny runes he recognized as being Nordic. He suspected there was far more beneath his clothes. “It took me a long time to come to terms with… well, everything. I really did not accept it until I met… someone with a connection to me like this gunslinger to you.” Genji smiled. “He helped me find peace, and forgiveness.”

Hanzo made a small sound, like he wanted to speak, but words failed.

“I have forgiven you, _anija._ You have clearly done your very best to redeem yourself in your own… honestly, pretty stupid way. Seriously, a treasure hoard? Like some European heathen? We’re better than that!”

“Sorry, treasure hoard? Ow! Ana!”

“Shut up, Jack, they are having a moment!”

McCree rolled his eyes.

“But… Genji… after what I did… how could you possibly…”

“It has been years. I was granted the life I wanted. I am still dragon, but I can live as man. I can explore and learn and become humble. Humility is a great lesson and teaches compassion.” Genji stepped forward to take Hanzo’s hands. “You do not need to stay here by yourself. You have a world out there just waiting for you.”

Genji turned a smile to McCree. “And clearly, you have a soul willing to be your guide.” He said something in Japanese that made Hanzo go red.

Hanzo replied, stuttering, and Genji laughed. Hanzo stared hard at him. “It really is you,” he murmured.

“Yes.”

“You are alive.”

Genji nodded. “I am. And I am here. Perhaps not for very long. I prefer to wander, as does my teacher.”

Hanzo asked a question, and Genji’s face softened. He nodded. “When I heard wind of legends here, I became too curious. I had to know if you were here. If not, then just seeing where it happened… and it does not hurt me. Not anymore.” He peered at Hanzo. “You still doubt yourself. You are afraid.”

“I have been here for three hundred years.”

“I doubt it will go away if you leave for a few,” Genji said. “There is nothing left for us here. It is time to move on. For both of us.”

McCree felt Hanzo’s jolt of fear. “Will you leave again?”

“I wish to find my teacher. Once we are reunited… perhaps we can travel together for some time. Treasure hunting does sound like a lot of fun.”

Hanzo said something in a quick voice, almost urgent, and Genji looked excited in his reply. Hanzo nodded.

“So… does this mean… you changed your mind?” McCree asked hesitantly. He heard Ana whisper something behind him, but paid them no mind for now.

Hanzo was afraid. He nodded. “If you and… your companions do not mind…”

McCree grinned widely at him and stole one of his hands from Genji. “Hanzo, there ain’t nothin’ more I’d want.”

Genji smiled. “I like this one, Hanzo. Keep him safe. You will do each other much good.”

“Y’know,” McCree said, looking at Genji, “he told me a bit about you. I gotta say… wasn’t expecting the green hair.”

Genji laughed. “A little adventure in self expression hurts no one! I would even say that Hanzo should consider some change in pace.”

“One thing at a time,” he said wryly.

McCree chuckled. “Lemme say, it is a real joy to meetcha, Genji, all things considered. Glad you ain’t actually dead.”

“Me, too,” he joked. He released his brother and rested his hands on his hips. “I will return to you soon, Hanzo, and we can catch up. You have some personal growth to get to.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes at that.

“Zenyatta will be very excited to meet you,” Genji said.

“I… look forward to meeting him, as well.”

Genji waved to McCree’s team. Reyes was the first to approach.

“So, uh,” McCree started. He held up his hands in a gesture to Hanzo. “Mind if we take along a good friend?”

“Just picking up strays, Gabe?” Morrison joked as he and Ana came over as well.

Ana stepped right up to Hanzo, making him take a step back. She looked him over skeptically for a moment before nodding. “I think he will do just fine.” She pointed a finger at him. “If you do anything to hurt this boy, I’ll have your hide.”

Hanzo’s eyes flicked to McCree, who shook his head with a helpless shrug. “I will protect him with my life.

“Hm. I like you.” She smiled and patted him on the cheek. “Jesse, how did you get yourself into this?”

He felt warm when she winked at him. “Ana, please.”

She laughed.

McCree looked at Reyes, worried now.

Reyes sighed. “You’re a world of trouble, Jesse McCree.” He looked over Hanzo. “You sure you’re up for treasure hunting, dragon-man?”

“Yes. I am better at it than you might think.”

McCree snorted.

“Huh. You keep on protecting this little shit and we’ve got a deal.”

“Gee, thanks,” McCree retorted as the two shook hands. “I don’t need protecting.”

“You need protecting from yourself,” Morrison scoffed.

“Let’s go back to camp now so everyone else can meet Jesse’s new dragon boyfriend,” Reyes teased.

McCree felt his own fluster and Hanzo’s. Genji laughed as loudly as Ana at their faces.

Genji gasped suddenly and grabbed Hanzo’s arm. He said something with a huge grin, and Hanzo brightened.

“There is an easier way down than climbing,” Hanzo said. McCree grinned as the scales crept over Hanzo’s face.

For the record, Morrison shrieked the entire time he clung to Genji’s emerald scales.

The reunion and explanation to the rest of the team took some time, but the two dragon brothers were evidence enough of the truth. McCree welcomed his guitar with ecstasy as they relaxed around the campfire. Hanzo watched him with bright eyes and affection as he played. Genji was watching his brother.

As Hanzo was talking with Ana about something, Genji pulled McCree aside. “I will stay for a short time, but I will be leaving soon. I must find my teacher.”

“Zenyatta?”

Genji nodded. “Zenyatta is to me what you are to Hanzo. You are special. There exist in this world certain humans with powerful souls, nearly like ours. Bright souls. It is… not quite like a soul mate? But there is an… imprinting effect when a human with this bright soul meets a dragon. You and Hanzo are linked. His joy is yours, as is his pain. And yours, his.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” McCree frowned. “Aside from the obvious emotional connection thingy.”

“It can mean whatever you and he wish it to mean. Zenyatta and I began with a mentor type relationship, but many times… the links lead to something more… romantic. I would guess that yours is very close to that already.”

McCree flushed. Hanzo glanced over at him.

“You are good for him,” Genji said. “I think you will be happy. Do not fear very much for the future. Flow with time for now, and let what happens, happen.”

“Thanks, Genji.” He offered a smile to the younger dragon.

When the stars were high overhead and Hanzo and McCree sat together, Genji’s slumbering form sprawled in the grass beside Hanzo, McCree quietly pointed out constellations.

“It’s not super easy to see from here,” he said. “There’s lots of trees.”

“Perhaps one day,” Hanzo said softly, “you can show me from that desert you love.”

McCree caught his breath and turned his face to find himself very close to Hanzo. “I think I’d like that.”

“Would you?”

“I’m gonna show you the stars from all over the world.”

“I would have no one else show me. Although…” He smiled. “It appears there are some missing. I believe they have been placed in your eyes.”

McCree reached up to cover the surprised sound. “Never fancied you a pick-up line kinda fella.”

“I did not either. Perhaps we are already learning much together.”

“I look forward to learning more with you.”

Hanzo’s breath washed over him.

“Is this the part where we kiss?” McCree whispered.

Hanzo laughed and reached up to cup the back of McCree’s head. “I would like nothing more.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Hanzo tasted like sandalwood and metal and adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on tumblr @rage-quitter for more Overwatch shenanigans and headcanons!


End file.
